


The Chasing of Moons

by Helena_Hathaway



Series: The Chasing of Moons [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: ABSOLUTELY GUARANTEED HAPPY ENDING, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Frerard, Funny, High School, Humor, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Science Fiction, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 01:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 110,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3671964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helena_Hathaway/pseuds/Helena_Hathaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The biggest dilemma in all of this is that Frank slept with his future husband. Now Frank’s just got to make sure that the future with him stays intact, but it’s not so easy when present day Gerard seems to hate his guts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Annoyingly Mysterious Gee

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [The Chasing of Moons (Traducido)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4242837) by [Gloriette_deWentz5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gloriette_deWentz5/pseuds/Gloriette_deWentz5)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank has mixed feelings about the generically mysterious man he meets in a bar.

The age of the joint has never been as transparent as it is now. There’s a noise like water hitting tin, the roof in heavy disrepair leaking with a small trickling sound of water into a glass behind the counter. The creaking sounds from above lend fear to the idea that the roof might just up and collapse in on itself.

Conversation within the bar is completely halted when a clap of thunder rumbles from only a mile or two away, followed by the sound of laughter from the bar counter where three boys sit.

The smallest of the boys doesn’t look old enough to be drinking, and the reason for this is because he’s not old enough. None of them are, but at least the other two don’t entirely look it.

According to his ID, his name is Franklin Durham. According to his friends, he’s a twat with a face like an orangutan. According to his mother, he’s a little angel. According to him, he’s just a slightly snarky, somewhat inferior-minded, above-average player of Tetris. His name is Frank, and the barman must be incredibly thick if he believes for one second that any of them are twenty one. 

In total, five people sit at the bar. The three boys in the middle, a woman to the side with mascara running down her face, and a man, somewhere in his mid to late twenties, on the left of where Frank sits now.

“To be fair though,” one of the boys says, the one with the enormous forehead and the ego even larger, “it’s not like it’s impossible.”

“No see, the reason they tack on that ‘fi’ at the end is because it’s fiction. Science fiction. That’s what it stands for you dolt,” Frank says to him.

“You can’t prove that it’s impossible, can you? You’ve got no proof. Like, you’ve never met someone from the future, have you? So if you haven’t than it’s literally impossible to know for sure.”

“No, it really is,” the other boy says. “Because, like, I’ve never seen anyone with telekinesis but that doesn’t make it real.”

“He’s right, Bren,” Frank says, “There’s really no justification for time travel.”

“Oh sure, take his side,” the boy with the forehead says.

“Dude, the fact that we’re even debating this it all is sad beyond belief. Time travel is not real. End of story,” Frank announces, rather loudly at the sound of another ferocious crack of thunder, which conveniently disguises the man behind Frank laughing to himself. 

“Okay, seriously though, it’d probably take a whole hell of a lot of electricity or something, like probably not enough energy could even be found on this planet, but anything is possible.”

“Anything’s possible, huh? So you’re saying it’s completely possible that Pete’s going to get laid by Angelina Jolie sometime in the next five minutes?” Frank offers.

“Anything’s possible, it’s just not necessarily plausible.”

“Why would Angelina Jolie even be here, and why wouldn’t she be attracted to me if she were?” The boy, presumably Pete, asks.

“Because Pete, and I mean this in the sweetest possible way, you’re disgusting,” Frank says.

“Fuck off.”

“But if you were to like get a shitton of electricity and had science enough to back it up, why not? I mean, look at Frankenstein.”

“Yeah, okay, again, we run into the fact that you’re example is science fiction, emphasis on the fiction. Apart from that though, I don’t see why it wouldn’t be possible. There’s a storm out there right now, why don’t you go stand under a metal rod and Pete and I will watch from a safe distance.” 

“Absolutely! Brendon, I am very much supportive of this plan,” Pete says.

“You guys are dicks,” The boy, Brendon, sighs, taking a sip of his completely illegally purchased alcohol. 

“I think she’d go for me,” Pete says, apparently still caught up in the other topic, “I mean, if not for the whole Brad Pitt thing, I don’t see why not.” 

“Please,” Frank says, “Brendon and I have far better a chance then you.

“Oh so now you’re taking my side?” 

“Well, please, Pete looks like he got hit with a car door. At least you’re tall. Chicks dig tall guys.”

“So then she wouldn’t really be looking your way, would she?” Pete says. Pete has, for the last five years, been dangling their height difference over his head like an identical twin who was born five minutes before their sibling. Their height difference is almost nonexistent. If there were a competition for the specificity of rulers, you’d be hard-pressed to find a single one better than any of the ones in the collection Frank has compiled in his effort to prove he’s taller, but he’s been unsuccessful. He’s had to face the fact that Pete is about a millimeter taller than Frank, but it’s entirely possible that it’s because Pete wears thicker socks. Or at least, that’s what Frank likes to think. 

“Please, Pete. I may not have an advantage vertically, but I sure as hell have one horizontally.” 

“Okay, so I see your joke, and I respect it’s cleverness, but I can’t help but to picture you planking on top of Angelina Jolie now.”

“You’re just jealous because I’m better at getting girls,” Frank says, and this time, there’s no well-timed thunder to prevent from them hearing the guy sitting directly behind Frank from snorting loudly at his words.

Frank turns, astounded by his candor and he tries to get a look at the guy, but he’s hiding his face with his hand, and looking in the other direction. 

“Excuse me?” Frank asks the guy, and Brendon puts his head in his hands, nervous of the secondhand embarrassment that is about to fill him. The guy doesn’t turn to look at Frank, he just stares off in the other direction, apparently staring at a picture on the old wooden wall, but Frank doesn’t buy that.

“Dude, if you’re going to eavesdrop, maybe don’t make it so obvious.”

“If you’re going to talk in public, maybe don’t talk so loud,” the guy replies, still not turning his head. The man’s voice is unique. Sort of soft, but also carrying well. It’s modulated, unlike one Frank’s ever heard, and it’s charming at the center of it. Kind of sweet, hauntingly beckoning.

Frank thinks that maybe he knows them and that’s why he hasn’t turned to face them, because Frank senses something vaguely familiar about him, but it’s not enough to know for sure if he can’t see the dudes face. 

“He has a fair point,” Pete says nodding, and Frank rolls his eyes, and turns back to his friends, trying to ignore the guy altogether.

Ten minutes later though, Frank can’t stop feeling self-conscious of people listening in on him. He can’t stop glancing back to look at the guy with the midnight colored hair. He doesn’t know why, but something about the man is eerie, and it’s not even in a bad way. He tries to shrug it off, owing it to the weather they’re having, and he almost convinces himself that that’s true when he’s met with the rumble of the sky above a few seconds later. Almost.

“Dude, we gotta head out,” Pete says, checking his watch. “Bren and I have to be awake early tomorrow, so I’m gonna drive him home.”

“Ugh, no, don’t leave me here all by myself,” Frank says pleadingly. 

“You can leave too, you don’t have to stay here,” Brendon says, looking at him as he stands up, and pulls on the hood of his coat.

“I’m going to wait the rain out a little longer,” Frank says, “see you later.”

“Yep,” Pete says, giving him a backhanded salute as he makes his way towards the door. Frank looks around, uncertain of what to do with himself, and that’s when he realizes that the guy who’d been eavesdropping has gone. He’s almost disappointed, because Frank was curious as to why he’d laughed and who he was. Frank looks around, but apart from himself and the lady at the other end of the bar, there’s not very many other people here. It’s a slow night.

He sits, looking around, taking the occasional sip of the water in front of him. He’s not stupid enough to try to get himself drunk when he knows he’s going to have to drive home, so he takes surreptitious sips and tries to find something to occupy his attention.

He settles on looking at the glass behind the bar catching the water leaking from the roof. It’s a small sound, a barely there little pitter-patter but it’s pleasant and calm. He listens to the rain on the ceiling above him until it gradually starts to fade out. 

Frank decides, maybe about fifteen minutes later, that he should head home. He’s certainly not about to go to bed, but he wants to be in the comfort of his own house for now. He likes rain, he really does, but it’s made all the better when you can just watch it from your own window.

Frank gathers his coat and makes sure he’s not missing anything before he makes his way across the short distance between him and the door. He’s not anxious to get out in the cold rain, but he figures he ought to be heading out sooner rather than later.

Frank walks outside, not sure if he’s ready to drive home if the roads are so wet. He doesn’t like to drive in the rain, he very nearly hit a tree once and it wasn’t a good experience, so it’s something he avoids. He’s not worried about how much he drank, because Frank honestly isn’t much of a binge drinker. He’s sure that he’s not impaired, not with how watered down he has to make that shit for it not to taste like piss.

Frank spies the guy who’d laughed at him earlier, standing a few yards away, cigarette in hand, staring straight ahead so that Frank can only see the side of his face. It’s dark anyway, so Frank can’t see much of him, and the distance isn’t doing him any favors. He knows it’s the same guy because he’s got the same jacket. It’s black with a red lining that Frank can spot because his hood is sticking out.

Frank doesn’t move or say anything for a few seconds, he just watches the man, almost hypnotized as he blows smoke out into the dark night waiting in front of them. The rain has all but stopped, only leaving a slight drizzle in its place, but the ledge of the building above them drips an excess onto the street in front of them. If not for the overhanging roof of the building, which extends about four feet from the wall, they’d be feeling the damp air hit their clothes and make everything all the more uncomfortable.

“You lied to me,” the guy says, out of nowhere, not even turning to look at Frank. At first, Frank’s not even sure that the guy is talking to him, but there’s no one else about, so he must be.

“I what?” Frank asks, looking over at the guy who he’s literally never met before tonight, and thus, can’t have lied to. 

“You told me that you came out ages ago,” the man says.

Frank feels a fearful stuttering of his heart and rushes over to the man, shushing him, even though there’s no one around to hear. The guy looks at him, a small sneer on his face that doesn’t look entirely mean-spirited, just amused. 

“Shut up,” Frank hisses at him, finally getting a clearer view of him as he sweeps a few strands of hair out of his face. He’s a good looking guy, Frank is willing to admit it, but that doesn’t make up for it if he’s an asshole, which Frank’s kind of getting the impression of. He doesn’t like to judge so quickly though, so he’s giving him the benefit of the doubt.

The biggest thing that Frank notices is that he looks familiar. No, familiar isn’t the right word. Frank is positive he knows this guy. He’s absolutely, achingly _sure_ that he knows that face. There’s not a doubt in Frank’s head that he’s seen this man before. It’s not a subtle inclination, he’s surer that he’s seen this person before than he is of anything else ever.

Except, with a face like that, Frank’s sure he’d remember him. How could you forget a face like that? No one is that pretty, but here’s living proof of human perfection. He’s got these oddly shaped eyebrows that add a lot of character to his face. They’re almost triangular, but they’re not because they arch upwards at the bottoms. His face is innocent in a way, and also not. It’s weird. It’s a very soft face, the kind that Frank feels like you’d never get tired of kissing, and then he stops himself from thinking that, because he’s a weird little pimply teenager and this is a grown man who probably dates a supermodel, and he’s not gay, and he thinks Frank’s a fucking weirdo.

Frank thinks he must be famous or something, because there’s no other way for him to be that familiar and still have Frank’s memory of him escape his head. That’s the only explanation. Frank’s probably seen him in a movie or something and he’s just having a hard time recollecting what movie that is. He knows that’s not it, that can’t be, but it’s something to at least guess at for now.

“Sorry, sorry,” the guy says. “It’s just, you shouldn’t lie to people or else you’ll be hit by the repercussions it brings.”

“Lie?” Frank questions, “I don’t even know you. How do you know I’m... how do you know that?” 

“I’m just clairvoyant.”

“Yeah, and you’re also an eavesdropper which means that you heard my opinions on that shit. Science fiction. So what is it then? Is it the way I dress?”

“Dress?” the guy asks him, “You think the way you dress can make you look gay?”

“Well, I mean, there’s a certain attire that can imply that, isn’t there?”

The guy shakes his head, and says sarcastically, “Right, Frank. It’s the way you dress.”

“Okay, how do you know my name?” Frank questions, pointing a finger out slightly like he’s caught the guy in some sort of lie.

There’s still something so familiar about the guys face. He can’t place it and it’s really starting to bother him. There’s a tension in his stomach at the fact that he just doesn’t know where he’s seen this guy before.

“Your friends said it,” the guy shrugs, and Frank’s confidence falls faintly, because that’s obvious. Of course he heard Frank’s name.

“And what’s yours then?”

“My what?” the man asks, taking a step closer to Frank, who has to pull his face back so as not to get a face full of smoke.

“Your name.”

“You can call me Gee,” he says.

“Is that your real name?”

“No one names their kid Gee, dingbat.”

“I-” Frank starts, before he digests the man’s words, “did you just call me a dingbat?”

“I’d have called you a dumbass, but I don’t want to get on your bad side,” Gee says.

“Okay, and why’s that?” 

“Because,” he shrugs, with an air of mysteriousness that pisses Frank off.

“Do I know you?” Frank asks him, not able to hold the question in any longer.

Gee snickers lightly, mostly to himself and replies, “I don’t think you know me. I know you better. After all, I know your name.”

“Well that’s because you won’t tell me yours,” Frank says.

“And I won’t. I think you can probably figure it out yourself.”

“Well what the fuck does that mean?” Frank asks loudly.

“You’ll figure it out, I’m sure of it. Give it a couple of days.”

Frank purses his lips, confused by the answer, “You’re very cryptic. It’s giving off a very stalkerish vibe, I’m not gonna lie.”

The guy looks down at him, with this look on his face like he’s highly amused with Frank, and it makes Frank feel small. It makes him feel years younger than this man whose way too attractive to even look Frank’s way. And there’s the fact that Frank is a hormonal, immature eighteen year old boy with almost no experience at all, so really, this guy should find Frank invisible.

The thing is that, even if the guy was a stalker, and he really does not come across that way, there’s no way for him to have any clue Frank’s gay. He literally has not told a single soul on the planet. No one. No one knows, so this guy couldn’t possibly. 

“Right, I’m stalking you. That’s what this is,” Gee says as if it’s all some big joke. 

“Well what other conclusion am I supposed to draw?”

“Dunno really. You don’t believe in science fiction, so basically, that guess is as good as you’re going to come.”

“Right, because you’re totally a psychic,” Frank states sarcastically.

“No, maybe not,” the man says, and he throws the last of his cigarette onto the ground and crushes it between his heal, which Frank finds oddly mesmerizing. He doesn’t even realize that he’s watching until he looks back up and the guy is now standing so much closer than he had been a moment before. Frank doesn’t know when that happened, or why he’s really nervous about it now.

“S-so then who am I to you?” Frank asks.

“You’re Frank.”

“Well yeah, I know I am, but to you, specifically. Who am I?”

The man declines to answer, just smirks some more and shrugs his shoulders up. Frank swallows audibly, and curses himself out at how awkward he is. He doesn’t understand why his heart is racing like this.

“You’re not going to tell me?” Frank asks him. “How you know about me?”

“Maybe I’ve just got one hell of a gaydar.”

“And do you?”

“Nope,” Gee says, popping the ‘p’ loudly, directly into Frank’s face. That’s all he says before he starts to walk past Frank in the direction of the parking lot. Frank stands there, stalk still for a moment, before his curiosity takes over and he’s forced to follow.

“Just tell me, okay? I don’t want my friends to know about me, it’s not exactly something I’m proud of. Just tell me what it is that makes me so obvious, so that I can fix it. It’s just that being... being like this, it’s embarrassing.”

“What’s embarrassing about being gay?” Gee asks seriously, the sound of wet pavement slapping below them as they walk. Frank can feel the sprinkling of rain around him, coating him delicately in a fashion similar to perspiration, but nicer, more pleasant. It sticks the very tips of his fringe to his forehead, which he swipes away as he follows behind Gee who seems to have legs miles longer than his. Frank’s not sure where it is the guy is heading, or which car is his, because there’s not very many. It’s a Thursday, a long weekend from school for Frank, no one is out tonight, so there’s very few cars parked in front of the bar.

“It’s just... you don’t understand.”

“Don’t understand being the gay guy in high school?” the guy asks, looking at Frank judgingly, “yeah, I wouldn’t have a fucking clue what that’s like.”

“I’m not in high school!” Frank defends himself loudly, because they are outside of a bar, so he’s got to pretend that much at least. Gee actually stops walking when he hears that to look down at Frank narrowly, no words even needed to enunciate his disbelief of Frank’s lie.

“Okay, so maybe I am, but you don’t know what it’s like having to hide from all of it. Or, I mean, maybe you do. So you’re gay then?”

“Would I be talking to you if I weren’t?” Gee says, “I do know what it’s like though, Frank. I know very well. But you’ve got a whole assortment of friends, I know you do. I had no one. Well, there was this _one_ guy who was nice to me.” The guy looks up, like he’s thinking about something in his past and Frank wishes he could see into Gee’s head. He wishes he could know who ‘this one guy’ is, and what’s so special about him to get Gee to have that look on his face.

Then Frank puts the pieces of what he said together and feels alarmed at the answer he gets when he thinks about it. What did he mean about not talking to Frank if he weren’t gay? That’s obvious to Frank now, but does he mean what Frank direly hopes he means? Is Frank being hit on? By a boy? For real?

Frank’s never been hit on by a boy. He’s never kissed a boy either. He’s never had a boyfriend. Nothing. Frank’s a sad little boy in an eighteen year old teenagers shoes who’s never kissed anyone of the right gender. Never slept with anyone of the right gender. Never dated anyone of the right gender.

That sucks, because Frank’s not exactly an unattractive teenager, and he’s easily one of the more socially affluent kids at his school, so he really could date any number of girls, but the sad truth is that he doesn’t want any of them. He’s tried to make them work, he really has, but in the end, they’re just the wrong gender. Girls are great, they can be fun to talk to and all that, but they’re not the right gender and even the great ones, the really really fantastic ones, will never be _right_.

“Okay then why are you here?” Frank asks, hoping he might be able to get him to say that he likes Frank or something which sounds like a fairytale, but he’s trying to be optimistic.

Gee finally stops in front of a car a moment after hearing Frank’s words and turns to look at him. Frank glances at the car they’re standing next to and then has the realization that that’s his own car. That’s Frank’s car. He drove that here. He looks around but there’s no other car directly next to him, so it’s obvious Gee stopped in front of this particular car for a reason. That brings Frank back to the theory that Gee is a stalker, but that doesn’t make sense. He’s too cool and collected to be a stalker, and it really wouldn’t add up. So who the hell is he then?

“How do you mean?” Gee replies, turning to look at Frank straight in the eye, his eye contact unwavering. He’s so unbelievably close, Frank can practically feel him breathing. Frank backs up a little against his car. He feels his hand come against the metal exterior which is damp to the touch and almost slips. 

“I just mean why are you here? Talking to me?”

Gee chuckles for a moment, looks down at the ground and then back up, straight into Frank’s eyes again. His eyes are a pretty alarming shade of hazel. The color that the coffee turns just after you add creamer. They’re the kind of eyes that people easily overlook because their almost brown, and people often don’t like brown eyes, which makes no sense, but they’re also an almost greenish color which is pretty striking. 

“Thought you’d never ask,” Gee says, before he’s pushing Frank up against his car and swiftly biting down on his lower lip. Frank doesn’t even know what to think. He doesn’t get it. He feels like he’s in a porno. It’s weird, but it’s weird in the nice way where you really wish you had the common sense and strength to question it and make it stop, but it’s completely out-trumped by the part of him that controls all the nonsensical bits. The nonsensical bits include, but are not limited to, his lips, which are kissing back, his hands, which find themselves almost instinctively wrapped up in Gee’s hair, his toes, curling in the front of his scoffed up vans, and his heart, picking up a new speed that he hasn’t felt in ages. 

And for a weird couple of minutes it feels like he knows this guy. Obviously there’s the fact that he recognizes him, but it’s different than that. It feels like he’s known Gee for years. Like this guy is someone he’s known since forever, and Frank’s only finally realizing that they were always made for each other. It’s just a _weird_ sensation that he doesn’t know, and sure he’ll never be used to. There’s nothing like it, because it’s not even a feeling per se, it’s more like knowledge. 

It doesn’t feel like he’s known this man for years, kissed him a thousand times without getting bored, it’s not a feeling. It’s just something he knows. He knows this man, and has for years. He knows what this kiss feels like but it still feels like a first kiss. He knows everything about this man, and he knows nothing at all. 

Frank doesn’t know his real name. Gee obviously can’t be it, so it must be short for something. George. Gene. Garret. Gideon. Gordon. Jeff. No that last one doesn’t start with a G. His name could literally be anything, and Frank has no idea what, and he’s got his tongue in this guy’s mouth which is not something you just do when you don’t know someone’s name.

“Whoa!” Frank says, coming to his senses about three years too late. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Gee asks, looking down at him quizzically. Frank’s got a hand on his chest where he pushed the guy away, but he doesn’t remember putting it there.

“Why did... what was... did you feel that or am I going insane?”

“Feel what?”

“Like... I don’t know, like I’ve known you for years. I’m being stupid, why are you even, like I’m just some fucking high school kid who you don’t even know.”

“Okay, trust me Frank, it’s definitely not just you who feels that way, about the knowing you for years thing. You’re not going insane.”

“Really?” Frank asks, feeling a little better about how his heart had overreacted a little bit there. 

“You could say that it feels like we started dating eight years ago, almost nine. Technically eight years and ten months.”

“That’s so specific, but you’re right!” Frank says, looking excited because somehow, Gee, whoever the hell he is, knows precisely what it is that Frank’s thinking. Frank’s not sure he would’ve said those exact numbers but he’s just really glad that he didn’t sound stupid when he said that.

“Feels like I’ve known you since I was the one in high school. Like you were, god, you were really annoying at the start, very clingy, which was weird because I wasn’t really used to attention at the time, but you gave it to me pretty adamantly. Honestly, you behaved much like a dog, following me around for ages, but that’s neither here nor there.”

“That’s a little more specific than what I was thinking,” Frank says, now thinking that he’s not the weird one at all in this situation and that’s both comforting and oddly hot.

“I get carried away sometimes,” Gee shrugs.

“I’ve never, uh, I’ve never kissed a boy before,” Frank says, hoping that that doesn’t sound too immature and dumb. He’s hoping that it doesn’t make him seem all the more unappealing, but he also thinks it was probably obvious in that kiss so there’s really no hiding that fact.

“So I’m your first,” Gee says, “well that just makes this all the more special, doesn’t it?”

“That’s not weird? That doesn’t freak you out or anything?”

“Why would that freak me out?”

Frank stumbles for a moment on his words, “well be-because, like, I don’t know. I’m not experienced or anything. You’re like, really hot, and I’m just this dumbass kid who you just kissed and you don’t know me, and I don’t know you, and you could literally have anyone, but you’re hitting on me.”

“Well you’re legal,” Gee says with a shrug, like it’s a fact. Frank doesn’t even consider how strange it is that Gee knows that, because he’s correct so it doesn’t even compute.

“Yeah, I am, but I mean, you could literally get anyone else besides me. I mean, how old are you exactly?”

“27.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, and you want to kiss _me_?” Frank asks, dazed at how incomprehensible this all is. Why on earth would someone that much older than Frank with probably tons of experience, ever hit on him?

“There are some things I have to do to make sure that everything goes according to plan. Now, if you want to turn me away now, that’s fine, but I think it’s important to note that I don’t give a shit what you’re thinking about the incongruence here. The fact of the matter is that I like you, and I don’t see why you need to dwell on the specifics as to why that is.”

“But,” Frank starts, but Gee stops him by kissing him again, and Frank melts in it. He’s almost positive that his entire body just turned to jelly and there’s this soft buzzing in his ears, muffling any coherent thought. It’s all too much. It’s too good. Frank never knew that there was a real spark there when you kiss someone you’re attracted to. He’s kissed a few girls before, but it never felt like this. He’s not even sure if it’s as simple as the fact that Gee is a boy, or as complicated as the fact that it could be Gee himself.

Frank has a terrifying thought for a second that it’s Gee’s influence on him, because that’d be kind of embarrassing. He doesn’t want to be the kid who falls for the guy nine years his senior. That feels so degrading, but this is too good a kiss to break it off.

So Frank just closes his eyes and lets himself float along for what feels like too short a time before it’s over.

“So,” Gee starts, “this is the part of the story where you’re supposed to invite me home because your mother is out of town for the weekend.”

“My-” Frank starts and stops, his mouth opening widely, “how the fuck did you even know that?”

“I’m just really smart,” Gee replies. “Like Sherlock Holmes, I just pick up on these things.”

“Well that seems like the most likely option,” Frank says shrugging and walking over to the driver’s side door, forgetting completely about his aversion to wet roads for the moment. 

“As opposed to?” Gee questions. 

“The idea that you’re a psychic, or a mind reader or-”

“Or what?” Gee asks, stepping back as Frank opens the door to his car. He doesn’t seem at all worried about Frank driving off without him, which is what Frank really should do, but he doesn’t want to. Frank doesn’t think he can, he’s far too intrigued. 

“I don’t know, the only other idea I’ve got is that you’ve time traveled back from the future or something.”

“Now,” Gee says, mouth aghast, “wouldn’t that be something?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic came about from a thought I had at midnight and I probably shouldn't be starting a new fic, but I don't care. What do you think of the first chapter?


	2. It's Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why’d you have to go make things so complicated?

Frank’s still pretty much trying to work out the logistics of how any of this is his life right now. He always figured that getting a dude to have sex with him would be a lot more difficult than this. He thought that he’d have to try to find someone who wasn’t all that attractive, probably not all that experienced, probably about as bad at it as Frank was. He just thought that altogether, it would be a very arduous experience, but this has been quite easy. 

He’d thought that it would be himself who’d have to instigate just about everything. He thought he’d have to go up to someone, have to introduce himself first, half to be the initiator of everything, but this has proved to be otherwise. All Frank really had to do was buckle his seat belt and wait for things to play out the way that they have. 

To be fair, he wasn’t all that great, but that was his first time, and Gee didn’t exactly say anything negative about him. He’s assuming he wasn’t great, but he has a good excuse. Frank’s about as inexperienced as someone who’s not actually a virgin can get. Basically, he’s only ever slept with a girl before, so this was very different in a good way.

It’s been very nice, he has to say. He’s now sitting on the roof of his house, wearing very little clothes, watching Gee blow smoke out into the night air. It smells like rain. The roof is damp, but not enough so that he’s all that worried about falling off. Frank’s been up here a couple thousand times before to think. His window opens up onto the roof so it’s easy access, and if his mother knew he comes up here sometimes, she’d probably kill him, but that doesn’t matter. Frank likes it. It’s serene. 

It sounds like spring. There’s really no other word for it but that. It smells like rain, it sounds like spring. Like life coming awake after the last couple of months of winter.

Frank can’t even believe that he still doesn’t know Gee’s real name. He’s been calling the guy Gee without even a guess at what his name actually is. Frank doesn’t know what the fuck he means about Frank figuring it out. How do you just figure out a person’s name? 

Frank’s had a bunch of really perverse thoughts on that matter actually. His creepiest thought is that maybe Gee is going to replace a teacher at his school, and that would be really fucking terrifying, but that doesn’t make sense. He also supposes that it’s completely possible that he really did sleep with some famous celebrity and he’s going to see the guy in the news or something. He can’t think of anything that actually makes any sense. 

“Do me a favor kid,” Gee says, speaking up for the first time in a few minutes. 

“It’s kind of demeaning for you to call me ‘kid,’” Frank replies.

“Don’t smoke,” Gee replies, ignoring Frank, “like, just don’t.”

“I don’t.”

“I know, and don’t start,” Gee says, and then he looks over at Frank with a spark in his eye like he’s just gotten an idea. “In fact, if you ever have a friend or your boyfriend or anything who starts to smoke, just don’t let him, okay? Like, if he even thinks about it, just punch him in the face to stop him. I remember I started to smoke at the beginning of April in my senior year of high school. You’re a senior, if you know someone who thinks about doing that, just don’t let him, okay? It’s March now, so like, yeah, punch him in the face if and when you see him try it out, you have my full permission. Make sure you save them from the monstrosity of having to deal with it.”

“Alright?” 

“Promise me, okay?” Gee says, looking at him severely, and Frank doesn’t get why he’s being so serious on the subject. Frank doesn’t have a clue as to what he’s supposed to do, or who the hell Gee could even be talking about. Frank doesn’t have that many close friends, he’s got a lot of friends, just not many who he can really talk to, or who would ever actually listen to him about a lot of things, such as smoking for example.

“Yeah, I guess,” Frank says, but that doesn’t seem to be enough for Gee, so Frank continues, “I promise.”

“Good,” Gee nods.

“So, I have a question then,” Frank replies meekly.

“And what’s that?”

“Why, uh, why did you... like, I don’t know.”

“Why’d I come onto you?” Gee asks the question for him.

“Well, yeah, pretty much.”

“I just did. You don’t have to question it. It’s not some big riddle or anything. You didn’t need to dissect it like it’s a Rubik’s cube, I just like you.”

Frank starts, making literally no sense at all whatsoever, “Okay, so like, I didn’t want to bring it up during that or anything, because, like, I mean, I didn’t want to be a complete idiot about it, ‘cause like, you actually wanted to sleep with me, and I wasn’t going to turn that down, because like-”

“Frank, get to the point,” Gee cuts in.

“Right, sorry, like... god, I’m sorry, it’s just that, you’ve got a wedding ring,” Frank says, feeling his insides clench tightly at the words when he says them. It was true whether or not he decided to mention it, but saying it makes it all the more real. He hates himself a little bit, even though he’s kind of happy. It’s a conflicting feeling. Part of him feels like a home wrecker while the rest of him is just really glad that he finally got to know what it was like to be with a guy. He thought he’d wait for another few years, but this was extremely unexpected, and convenient. Not convenient in a way that’s bad, like he only accepted because he’s desperate, he honestly can’t help but be attracted to Gee, but he just doesn’t know if this was okay, because the dude has a fucking wedding ring.

By the time that Frank had noticed, it was kind of an inconvenient time. Which is to say that he was not wearing the amount of clothes that he would ideally be wearing when calling someone out on something like that. It’s hard to confront someone about wearing a wedding ring after you’ve literally gotten them into your bed and taken off the majority of both of your clothes.

“Don’t worry about it,” Gee says, nonchalantly.

“Don’t worry about it? Seriously? That’s what you’re telling me. You like, are literally wearing a wedding ring. I’m literally sitting next to you and you have a wedding ring. How am I supposed to feel about that?”

“Trust me, I’m not cheating or anything.”

“What, so like... what? Are you not together anymore or something?”

“No,” Gee says bluntly.

“Well thanks for clearing that up!” Frank says sarcastically. “Then what? I can’t help but feel like a home wrecker or something, and you’re just sitting there. I didn’t want to bring it up, because, I figure you know what you’re doing, you’re the adult here, but it’s going to bother me. I mean, what if you cheated on this guy with me, or if he’s dead, then I’ll feel really guilty because you haven’t told me and I’m a bitch because I’m just assuming you’re a cheater, but maybe-”

“Look, I... we have an agreement,” Gee says.

“An agreement?” Frank asks, “Like an open marriage?”

“No, not like that.”

“Well then like what?” Frank asks emphatically.

“Not like anything. This is definitely a unique situation that we have here. I’m almost positive that there’s no comparing it,” Gee says, and Frank’s really getting sick of how mysterious the dude is trying to be. It’s like he’s trying to come across as this mystical bad boy or something, but Frank did just see him naked and there’s literally no hiding the fact that his boxers had the Batman emblem on them. 

“Well what the fuck does that mean?” 

“I just can’t explain it to you,” Gee says, shaking his head and he snubs out the last of his cigarette on the roof before tossing it away, out into the trees below. Frank really wants to give him a lecture about littering, but the damn thing is gone now, no way in hell would they be able to find it, so he mightn’t even bother. 

“Try to.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Gee replies.

“Okay, then answer me this,” Frank says, “Are you like, gonna stay with this guy?” 

“’Course I am, I love him to pieces.” 

Frank’s heart falls just a little bit. He kind of expected that, but part of him is still really let down on it. He likes this guy. He doesn’t know why. Gee’s just really compelling for some odd reason. 

“Oh. So like, this is a one-off thing then isn’t it?”

Gee sighs and looks over at Frank, “I have until Sunday, and then I gotta go back.”

“Go back?”

“Yeah,” Gee replies.

“And when you go back, wherever it is you’re going, will I ever see you again.”

Gee purses his lips and his eyebrows furrow together like he’s thinking. “Well, yes and no. I’ll be seeing you, and you’ll be seeing me, but neither of us is really going to be seeing each other at all. You will in a more technical way, you’ve got more time ahead of you, so you’ve got more time to spend it, but, I don’t know how I’m supposed to answer your question.”

Frank stares back at him, his face torn up in about as much confusion as it usually is in the middle of math class. 

“I know that didn’t make any sense,” Gee replies, shaking his head, “And I’m sorry that I can’t be more clear, I just can’t. I wish I could, but I can’t jeopardize things. I have to make sure that everything goes a certain way. To answer the question though, I guess, no. You won’t be seeing me after Sunday. This will kind of be it for us, but you really shouldn’t get so down about that, because it’ll end up being a good thing.”

“So you’re just going to leave forever on Sunday?” 

“I really don’t know what to tell you. Yes.”

“Well why? Like, what’s the point of having met me if you’re just going to leave me in a few days anyway? I mean, you’re the adult, you should be the one making sense, but nothing you say is remotely legible. What’s so special about Sunday?”

“It’s just this day that you’ll hopefully understand in the future.”

“You’re so fucking cryptic, it’s honestly so annoying,” Frank shakes his head.

“Yeah, sorry. You might grow to like that about me though,” Gee says, “I know that we always grow to like things about people if we spend enough time with them.”

“Yeah, but you’re only going to be here another three days, that’s literally no time at all to get to know you.”

“Well then just bear that in mind for your future acquaintances or your boyfriend.” 

“You keep saying things like that like there’s actually any chance of me getting a boyfriend when I can assure you that there absolutely is not.” 

Gee chuckles to himself lightly, “trust me, you have it in you to get yourself a boyfriend. I have my complete faith in you on that matter. It might take a while, a month or two, but I’m sure you’ll be able to win this guy’s heart.”

“And another thing, you keep talking about my invisible future boyfriend like he’s just one person, like, you only have the faith in me to get the one boyfriend,” Frank adds.

“Maybe I just think you’ll be able to snag someone and pin them down forever,” Gee says.

“I’m in high school, dude. No one marries their high school sweetheart, that’s a thing of myth.”

“I did,” Gee shrugs.

“Okay, well, you may have, but you’ve basically just proven that it didn’t work out given what’s just happened,” Frank says, referring of course to the fact that Gee is literally sitting on his roof after they just fucked, and he’s in nothing but a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants he borrowed off of Frank which are a little short around the ankles. 

“No, it’s working out, I love him, like I said, it’s an intensively complicated dynamic.”

“I don’t get it,” Frank shakes his head, “it must be fucking complicated if you just had sex with me, but whatever.”

Frank doesn’t like the tone of his own voice. He doesn’t like the fact that he sounds jealous. He shouldn’t be the one who’s jealous. The poor sap that’s married to Gee should be the jealous one. Frank doesn’t care what he says, it doesn’t sound justified in the slightest to him. 

“You sound jealous,” Gee says, and Frank turns a pinkish color at the fact that Gee picked up on that. 

“No, I’m not. I just don’t get it.”

“I don’t completely understand it either,” Gee says, “hell, it took me about five years to believe any of this, and yet, I’m here now, so it’s just fact at this point.”

Frank wants to ask Gee about his husband, but he decides against it. That would be way too personal. He only barely knows this guy, he can’t just start asking about the guy who he’s having an affair with Frank for. Frank doesn’t get it, he doesn’t want to get it either. He supposes, if the marriage went rotten and Gee doesn’t want to admit to it, then it’s not really Frank’s fault, because he’s not the one who ruined it. If he’s the guy Gee had an affair with, that’s not really his fault either, because the marriage wasn’t working out anyway, this probably would have happened sooner or later. That doesn’t ease his mind in the slightest though. He still feels awful, because of the fact that he’s enjoying this.

He likes it. He likes Gee, he likes the way the guy kisses and he likes his stupidly cute face. He likes all of it and he knows that he should feel really bad about this because he might have ruined a marriage, but he’s not as torn up over it as he should be.

Still Frank’s not having an easy time at it, but he wants it to happen again now. He wants to kiss Gee again, and do outrageously R rated things with him, and he shouldn’t want that, because they’ve only just met, and this guy is married. That’s so many boundaries crossed already that Frank can’t uncross. Maybe that’s what makes him feel a little better about how he wants it all again. The fact that he can’t take it back just means that he’s doing no harm if he has the chance to do it again. And again. Maybe a couple more times after that too. 

He thinks that the answer will just make him feel guilty so he’s going to decide that he doesn’t care. He’ll attempt it, but it’s not easy. He does care, and he wants to not, but there’s no point now, it’s too late. Everything in his head is just so muddled and thinking in too high a speed for him to come up with any real solution to this dilemma. He just knows that the damage has been done so he might as well fuck things up even more.

“Why do you have to leave then?” Frank asks, “On Sunday?” 

“I just do,” Gee responds. “I can’t postpone it. It’s a set time when I have to leave, and when I’m gone, there’s no way for me to come back.”

“You’ll be okay though, right?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be perfectly fine,” Gee says, “everything will be alright, I just won’t be here.”

“Oh okay,” Frank sighs somberly.

“But I’m here now,” Gee says, looking back at Frank, blinking his eyes innocently. “For another two and a half days.”

“Yeah,” Frank nods, looking back and he seems to receive some sort of tacit understanding from Gee’s head, and really, he should just ignore the guy and walk away or push him off the roof or something, but Frank is really _really_ attracted to this son of a bitch so he can’t really help himself. “Two more days, huh? Lots of things we could do with that time.”

“Loads,” Gee nods, “Got any ideas.”

“One,” Frank nods. He cannot believe that he’s actually receiving these signals from Gee again. It does not seem real. But, obviously, he can’t take anything back, so he might as well.

Gee smiles back at him with this really gorgeous look on his face that makes Frank’s heart jump in his chest. He can’t describe it really. Gee just has this impish little grin, like he’s plotting something, but it’s really cutting into Frank in a way he’s not used to. Whatever the hell it is that makes this guy so different is also the same thing that’s making Frank feel like he’s fallen into a story book for children. His biggest concern in this is that people in story books always fall in love in a matter of minutes with complete strangers. He’s starting to understand just how real that feeling can actually be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the answer to your question is yes, I did quote Avril Lavigne in the chapter summary. Also, you should leave me a comment.


	3. What. An. Idiot.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank makes an idiot of himself.

“Pete, have you heard the big news?” Brendon shouts from way too far away for Frank’s comfort. He really shouldn’t have said anything. This is going to get real dirty real fast. The only thing he can do to save his lie from getting out is to borough himself a million times deeper in that lie.

“You finally grew a chest hair? Brendon, I am so beyond proud of you,” Pete says, walking over to them, and forcing Brendon to flip him off.

Frank tries to hide his face with the backpack sitting on his lap, but it doesn’t do much to actually hide him. Frank’s small, but he’s not _that_ small.

“You’re so funny Pete, I’ve got a joke for you, go fuck yourself.”

“You don’t really understand the logistics of joke telling, do you?” Pete asks him, sitting down on the railing next to Brendon. Technically, students aren’t allowed to sit on the railing, because there’s this urban legend that seven years ago, some kid sat there, slipped and cracked his head open, but no one actually believes that and no teacher has ever enforced the rule so no one actually listens to it. Besides, it’s spring, and no one wants to get grass stains on their jeans from sitting on the ground, so the railing almost completely full of teenagers who are balanced very precariously on the long arm of metal. 

“Pete, that doesn’t change what I was trying to say. Go fuck yourself.” 

“Well aren’t you just the sweetest thing. So what is the actual big news then?” Pete asks, and Frank cringes because Brendon’s about to spread his lie. Frank’s terrified of this, he knows it’s going to get out now, because Pete’s mouth is as big as Brendon’s ego. Also, Frank’s not exactly a nobody, even if he would like to be, so people actually care about hearing gossip that concerns him, which is very confusing in his opinion as he can’t believe he, the guy who uses a Mario toothbrush, is anyone who you’d care to know things about.

“Frank got laid,” Brendon announces.

“Say it louder, would you?” Frank hisses at him, “My mom is only working across town, I think what she really needs is to hear you talking about my sexual escapades.” 

“You did not,” Pete says, narrowing his eyes at Frank. “When?”

“After you... you left the bar,” Frank says.

“Proof or it didn’t happen,” Pete says, crossing his arms, and Frank just shrugs. 

“I don’t have proof,” Frank says, and sighs, because maybe it actually will blow over the way he’s hoping it will. If Pete doesn’t believe him than he won’t have to deal with it somehow getting out. He really needs Pete to not believe him, that would be ideal. 

Frank doesn’t even know why he got himself into this. He should have just told Brendon that he went home and watched a movie or something. He could have literally said anything else, but he panicked. He couldn’t help his tongue, it just slipped, and now he’s fucked.

“Oh my god, you did, didn’t you?” Pete asks, his eyes getting all wide. “You’re telling the truth! Fuck it, man, we should’ve stayed longer, we could’ve watched it all go down.”

“What? A second ago you said I needed to show you proof!”

“Nah, your face is giving it away, you actually did,” Pete says, and shakes his head, looking, to Frank’s horror, impressed.

“So wait, you just picked some chick up after we left? How long after?” Brendon asks, “Like, now I hate myself, we should’ve stayed longer, Pete, this is all your fault!”

“You met her at the bar? So you slept with an older woman?” Pete asks, “Congratulations Frank, you’re finally a man.”

Frank just cowers under the hair in his face and tries not to turn bright red at how awful this all is. Why did he have to open his mouth in the first place? Why can’t Pete have a quieter voice? Why can’t he be straight? 

“Okay so tell us more, man,” Pete says, looking over at Frank intensely, “or we’re going to have to start singing that song from Grease.”

“Well we already know how far he got,” Brendon says.

“Yeah, but was she hot?”

“He-uuh,” Frank realizes his slip and tries to correct himself, “here’s not a great place to talk about it?”

“Talk or you die.”

“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” 

“Nope,” Pete shakes his head. “I want all the information except for the information I don’t want, leave that out.”

“How am I supposed to know what you don’t want to hear?”

“Just skip the details. Save us the expense of what happened when you took off your pants, okay?” Brendon says. “Just tell me, was she hot?”

“Well, uh, yeah,” Frank says, honestly, thinking about Gee. The guy was really hot. He wasn’t a she though, and that’s what makes him feel so uncomfortable having to lie about it. Frank really wishes that he could just say that Gee was a boy. He wants to just be out, and not afraid of it, but he isn’t, and he is afraid. Frank doesn’t want to be afraid, but he can’t do anything about it right now. He probably wouldn’t want to talk about Gee anyway, but at least he could stop using the wrong pronouns.

“What’d she look like, man?” Pete says, rolling his eyes at Frank, “tall, short, blonde, brunette, big ti-”

“Jesus, just calm yourself down,” Frank interrupts him, “she had black hair, or, like really dark brown hair, I guess. Uh, really really really really small teeth. Like her teeth were tiny. Like I’ve never seen anyone with teeth that small, it was weird, but cute.”

“That’s a strange thing to describe about a girl you fucked,” Brendon says, looking confused. “Like, who focuses in on someone’s teeth?”

“Well you’d remember that too if you’d seen hi-her,” Frank says, cursing himself again for almost slipping up.

“So you gonna see her again?” Brendon asks, elbowing him and doing this weird wiggle with his eyebrow that’s more creepy than it is anything else.

“What?” Frank asks, watching people filing out of the school with their lunches and finding a place to sit. Frank’s not all that concerned with actually eating, as he’s too busy trying not to panic at the fact that he might get caught in this lie any second now. He tries to eat a grape casually and almost chokes on it when he realizes that it still has a small part of the stem on it.

“Wow. That was attractive,” Pete says monotonously as Frank spits the grape onto the sidewalk.

“Sorry,” Frank says, frazzled and blushing a bright red. “What did you say?”

“I asked if you were gonna see her again,” Brendon replies.

“Oh, uh, no. She’s gone. She was... well, married.”

“Dude!” Pete says, his face suddenly looking angry. “You did not!”

“I didn’t mean to! I mean, I only realized, like, after I got her home and it was just awkward to try to mention it at that point. She tried to tell me it wasn’t cheating, but I figure she was just lying to save my conscience. But, if she was cheating, it’d have happened anyway whether I was there or not, I figure, so it’s not really on me. _I’m_ not the cheater.”

“Yeah, but still,” Pete shakes his head, “it’s a good thing you’re not seeing her again then.”

“Yeah, probably,” Frank replies somberly. 

“Oh god, you really liked her.”

“What? No, I just... well, yeah. I liked her.”

“What was her name?” Pete asks.

“I’m not going to tell you! That’s one thing that will stay with me,” Frank declares.

“Well fine, keep secrets from your best friend,” Brendon scolds.

“Bren, I’m his best friend,” Pete says.

“Fuck off,” Brendon replies, “we both hate your guts, but we’re too polite to admit it.”

“Shut up, you two,” Frank says, watching the doors again with boredom. He’s not looking for anyone in particular, he just doesn’t want to have to look at the two guys next to him, because he’s afraid his face will give away the fact that he’s lying.

“Fine. One final question, and, forgive me for asking Frank, but you’re extremely disgusting, ugly, smelly, gross, and revolting, so why on earth would an older woman be interested in you?”

“I have been asking myself that very same question since I met her,” Frank shakes his head, “god, she was gorgeous. Really beautiful. And for some reason, liked me. I don’t get why.”

Frank takes another grape, having recovered some of his dignity by now, but he makes sure that it doesn’t have a stem on it this time. He’s really worried he’s going to end up choking on a seed, but then he reminds himself that these are seedless grapes. He’s just not having a very good time at thinking logically today. 

Brendon’s at the beginning of saying something when Frank splutters and almost chokes on yet another grape, but it’s for a very different reason this time. 

It’s just that, Gee is standing right there. He’s standing right in front of Frank, about thirty or forty feet away, but still, he is _right_ there. 

Except, it’s not Gee. Gee was 27, and he looked about that age, but the guy that Frank now finds himself gawking at is a teenager. He’s no older than Frank. But that _is_ Gee. Frank would bet his own life on the fact that that person standing right there is Gee. 

He’s got the same exact face. He’s got the same hair, though it’s much more obvious to tell that it’s dyed than Frank remembers it being. He’s got the exact same eyebrows in the exact same shape. He’s got the exact same mouth, lips a little thin, but not that much. Frank can’t see his teeth because his mouth his closed, but he imagines that they’re just as small. He’s got the exact same nose, a very unique nose that you’re not likely to find a lot of duplicates of. It’s Gee, it absolutely is.

He’s not a bad looking guy, not in the slightest, but Frank thinks that the Gee he spent the weekend with looked much more grown into his own face, while that guy looks much more awkward with it.

But it’s not Gee. It can’t be, and Frank knows that. Gee was older than that guy. Not by much, but it was still pretty distinct. Besides, the guy that Frank now looks at is too pale to be Gee. He’s too young, too pale, a little chubbier, and his hair is quite a bit longer, covering up a lot of his face. But it’s him. Frank is sure of it. That has to be him. There’s no possible way that Gee is not that boy over there, but there’s no way that Gee can be that boy over there either.

Gee is looking at the entrance to the school, like he’s waiting for someone. He’s not even slightly aware of Frank staring at him with his mouth wide open, and eyes possibly about to fall out of his skull.

“Frank?” Brendon asks, suddenly extremely concerned for his friend who’s turned into a cartoon character. 

“That’s him!” Frank shouts loudly, not even bothering to censor himself so that he makes sense. Frank doesn’t even consider what he does next. He doesn’t think about how much he’s going to regret it, or how much embarrassment is about to befall on him. He doesn’t think of any of those things at all. What Frank does instead is hop down onto his feet, letting his bag of grapes all spill out onto the sidewalk, and he just speeds over to the guy. Frank barely looks where he’s going, doesn’t realize he steps over a grape and almost collides into a girl trying to walk the other way.

Brendon and Pete both chase after him, Pete grabbing the backpack that Frank let fall to the ground, because they’re both fairly sure he’s having some sort of mental break. If Frank were thinking logically, he’d probably agree with that assessment.

“It’s you!” Frank states loudly, still walking towards the guy, but this time the guy in question actually hears Frank. It’s at this point that Brendon does the panicking that Frank should be experiencing right now but hasn’t, because he hasn’t registered yet how weird he’s acting. 

The guy who Frank has decided is Gee’s doppelgänger, looks his way at Frank’s words, and the look of surprise on his face is pretty damn justified when you consider the way Frank is acting. 

“Excuse me?” Gee’s doppelgänger asks. He’s standing next to this taller lanky dude who Frank’s not familiar with. 

He’s pretty sure he understands now why Gee had looked so familiar, he had this guy’s face. Frank’s seen him before, he know he has. That’s why he couldn’t place where he’d seen Gee before. He wasn’t an actor or anything, and Frank really _did_ know that face, it just looked a little different because he was older than this person here. This has to be why he looked so familiar then. But god, Frank is still so confused.

“Do you have an older brother or something?” Frank asks, finally coming to a stop directly in front of the Gee doppelgänger. Frank can’t even believe that idea himself, though. Brothers can look similar, sure they can, but not that similar. That’s not possible. The only people who can possibly look that similar are twins, except Gee was older than this boy here, so Frank doesn’t know what the fuck is going on.

“Uh, no?” the guy says, looking really fucking confused, and somewhat repulsed with Frank now. When he scowls slightly at Frank, he gets a glimpse at his teeth, and just as Frank has suspected, they’re the same tiny teeth as Gee’s. 

Frank’s had classes with this guy. He _has_ classes with his guy. He’s the weird guy who sits in the back of the class with that other guy who has huge hair. Frank’s pretty sure they went to middle school together. He can almost remember talking to him maybe once or twice in English class. He could be wrong though.

Frank knows the guy’s name, it’s at the tip of his tongue. It’s something that sounds like an old man’s name, he remember. Frank thinks it was two syllables maybe. It started with a... Frank thinks it started with a G.

“What’s your name?” Frank asks him, and Brendon catches up finally, and begins trying to tug Frank away by the arm.

“Do you know this guy?” the tall kid standing next to Gee’s doppelgänger asks, and Frank looks at him, evaluating quickly. There’s a definitive family resemblance there. Frank would be extremely surprised to find that they weren’t related in some way. Probably brothers. But if they’re brothers, then who the fuck was it that Frank met at that bar? Who could possibly look so much like this kid that Frank’s known for nearly eight years without ever actually talking to.

“You’ve been in the same class as me since middle school and don’t know my name?” the guy asks Frank, looking extremely unimpressed with him. Brendon starts to pull a little more forcefully, trying to get him to walk away, but Frank resists.

“G something. Or J something,” Frank says.

“Gerard,” the guy who Frank has decided is the brother of Gee’s doppelgänger, tells him. 

“Mikey,” Gee’s doppelgänger spits angrily, like he didn’t want his name to have been told.

“Gerard!” Frank repeats it victoriously. “Gee for Gerard. So it _is_ you.”

“Frank, we should go,” Brendon tugs on him. 

“What’s me?” the guy asks, and Frank’s finding it hard to put the name ‘Gerard’ to his face when he’s so used to thinking ‘Gee.’

“It’s you!” Frank says, “Right?”

“He had a really sour cup of coffee this morning,” Brendon says, “I think he needs to see the nurse.”

“Probably not a bad idea,” Gee, no, Gerard, says. 

“No! I’m not crazy. That’s him, I know it is!” Frank says, too loudly, but Pete’s now helping Brendon out and they’re slowly pulling him away the best that they can. At least you can’t say they’re bad friends.

“What’s him?” Pete asks him quietly, “Don’t freak out the guy you’ve never talked to, Frank.”

“But I know him, I do!” Frank insists, and that’s when Gee or Gerard or whatever the hell his name is shrugs and starts to walk away. Frank tries to push Brendon off of him, but to no avail, and that’s how he gets himself dragged up the steps back into the school.

Frank starts to come to his senses a little bit when he’s hit by the air conditioning. It hasn’t quite processed fully what an idiot he just made of himself, but it will sometime soon, that’s for sure. Even though his head is a little clearer and he’s starting to think a little more rationally, Frank still looks out the door behind him where he can just barely see the back of the guy’s head, and even from the back of his head, Frank is absolutely sure that is Gee. It has to be. Somehow, and he doesn’t know how quite yet, Gee and Gerard are the exact same person. They have to be. Frank just doesn’t know how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in this day of grief, because of the fact that it's no longer Gerard's birthday, just remember that at least we still have two more emo birthdays to celebrate this month. Also, you should leave a comment you sexy bastard.


	4. The Chapter That Just So Happens To Have Been Written on Brendon Urie's Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should be reiterated here that Frank is an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter could also be titled "Guess Who Has Only Written Two Pages of A Six Page Paper That's Due Tomorrow and Wrote a Fic Chapter When She Should Really Be Writing That Paper" but that was a bit too long.

“Alright small human, what the _fuck_ was that about out there?” Brendon says, finally willing himself to speak when they’re in the sanctuary of the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind them. Frank wants to say something about that being a problem, because what if someone tries to come in here, realizes it’s locked and goes to tell the teacher, but what’s a detention anyway when he just figured out why Gee looked so familiar.

“I just... you didn’t recognize him?” Frank asks.

“Yes of course I did, we’ve been in the same class as that guy for like ever,” Brendon says, “but what does that have to do with the fact that you practically assaulted him? Who did you think he was? You kept saying that it was him? Him who?”

“Him!” Frank shouts, a little too loudly, and he knows he really should watch his voice, because they could get themselves into trouble by barricading that door, but he just doesn’t care right now. He doesn’t have it in him to worry about something as menial as that.

“Once again, we run into that big problem, him who?” Pete says, looking, if it’s possible, even more confused than Brendon. Then again, Pete does make a living of looking pretty oblivious at most things, but this is a new level, even for him.

“You don’t remember? It was...” Frank stops, thinking his words through before saying them, and reminds himself, he’s supposed to be straight. He’s supposed to have gone home with a chick a few nights ago, not their classmate Gerard’s doppelgänger, but not doppelgänger. “That guy. The one who was eavesdropping on us at the bar.”

Brendon’s eyebrows furrow together, and he’s starting to actually debate whether or not Frank really does need to go see the school nurse.

“You mean the guy who literally never turned around so we never actually saw his face?” Pete asks.

“What?” Frank questions, and that’s when he remembers the actual exchange, because, fuck, Pete’s right. He never did turn around in the bar. Frank only got a real look at him a couple minutes later when they were outside. That’s the only time he ever really figured out what the guy looked like.

“Oh,” Frank says, “Well fuck. Because, uh, after you two left he talked to me again, and I got a look at him.”

“Okay, so, that’s nice,” Brendon says hurriedly, “but that does not explain what the hell that was about.”

“They had the exact same face!” Frank insists, “They had the same face! The Gerard guy literally was the guy at the bars twin, but he was older than that. He was, like ten years older, but they still had the exact same face.”

“Alright, great, so they looked similar.”

“No! They had the exact same face!”

“Except one of them was ten years older,” Brendon says and that’s when Frank has the realization that he could literally show the two of them photographic proof, get a police lineup, and have a DNA test, and they still would not believe a single word that comes out of his mouth. 

“Oh fuck, you guys are the worst friends ever,” Frank says with annoyance, and still panicking like his life depends on it, before he heads toward the door. 

“Where the hell are you going?” Pete asks, following behind him and putting his hand in front of the door.

“I’m not going insane!” Frank says to him, loudly, “I’m not! I swear!”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Okay, I know they had the same face. Believe me or don’t, I don’t give a shit, but they had the same face and there is nothing you can say or do to change that.”

“Alright, but, did you ever stop to think that they’re brains are not connected by a wire or something? Like, they have the same face or so you say, that does not mean they know of each other or what the other is thinking, so going up to that kid like that was about as confusing for him as you can get. Like what was that even fucking about? What happened to your fucking filter before you made an idiot of yourself like that?” 

“I just, ugh,” Frank groans, “I had a lapse in judgment.” He’ll say anything to get these two off his back. If what he needs to do and say is that he made a mistake and completely screwed up, then so be it. He still knows he’s right, and there’s nothing that will change that, because he absolutely _is_ right. There’s no doubt in Frank’s head that he’s right. Somehow, that guy, Gee, or whoever the hell he was, is Gerard and he doesn’t fucking know how that’s possible but it has to be, one way or another. 

Maybe it was just really good makeup. Maybe Gee was wearing makeup to make him look older. Except, Frank supposes makeup would probably fade away after a while, and Frank spent quite a while with him so he doubts that’s it. He’s not discounting that theory though. Maybe it was some big elaborate prank, and this is some weird new prank show. That wouldn’t make any sense though, because why on earth would he have actually gotten to have sex with Gee? There are some lines that he thinks even a practical joke program wouldn’t cross.

The only thing Frank is sure of is that Gee and Gerard are not completely different people. He is positive of that much. There is no way, no fucking way, for it to be possible that they were not connected somehow. Frank doesn’t get how it’s possible, and when he gets home he’s going to do a hell of a lot of googling, but it has to be possible, one way or another. It has to be possible, because it’s fact, and Frank knows it is.

“A lapse in judgment is when you think that you can totally throw that wad of paper across the room without accidentally hitting your teacher in the head. A lapse in judgment is not freaking out a guy you barely know because he looks vaguely like a guy you talked to for a half a minute four days ago.”

“So let me guess, you hit your teacher in the head with a doodle of a dick or something, didn’t you?” Frank asks.

Brendon doesn’t say anything for a moment, “that’s unimportant. What is important is that you never ever make eye contact with that Gerard guy ever again. Okay?” 

“Ugh, fine,” Frank says, shoving Pete out of the way of the door, and pulling it open. 

“Where are you going?” Pete asks him, and Frank turns around looking irritated and ready to go off about him being a dick, when he realizes that Pete is holding Frank’s backpack up to prove how much of an idiot Frank actually is. 

“Oh,” Frank says, walks over and grabs it from Pete, who just rolls his eyes, “Well fuck you too.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Pete shouts after him. Frank says nothing back, he just walks down the hall, and tries to figure out how he’s going to waste the next five minutes before lunch ends. He decides to walk to his locker which is down three hallways in the dead end part of the school, and when he gets there, all he can think to do is stare into the contents of it for what feels like hours. Frank’s only real revelation is that he has too many wads of post it notes. 

Frank almost finds the sound of the bell merciful, because he doesn’t have to stand here looking bored anymore. He does end up being the first person in the classroom, which is pretty much a first for him, not even the teacher is back yet. It’s pretty creepy being alone in a classroom and it definitely makes him uncomfortable. 

Not long after though, people start to file their way in, and Frank’s relieved that he won’t have to deal with either Pete or Brendon until next period. 

But his stomach drops the slightest bit when the guy who he just made a massive idiot of himself in front of walks in. He makes very brief eye contact with Frank and then looks away hurriedly. Frank watches him, still not used to the name Gerard, and Frank doesn’t even care how blatantly obvious his staring is. How has he never looked twice at that guy? It’s like he’s been invisible for the last however long he’s been in the background of Frank’s life. That’s all he really is. Just a background character to Frank. He’s no one, and Frank is probably no one to him too. Or at least, Gerard was no one a week ago. Now he’s the guy who has the exact same face as the guy that Frank slept with.

Frank hates to think it, but he’s having a lot of trouble not seeing Gee naked in his head and it’s a really bad thought to have in the middle of civics. But here he is now, looking over his shoulder every few minutes at that guy and he’s having flashbacks to things that Gerard would probably have an aneurism if he knew about. What would he think if he could see inside Frank’s head right now? Because Frank knows precisely what he looks like naked, and that’s something that Frank imagines isn’t something a lot of people know.

Given the fact that he’s literally never looked twice at the guy before today, Frank highly doubts that Gerard is a very socially promiscuous person. It’s always possible, but Frank literally has only ever seen him with maybe two friends and one of them is apparently his brother. The only other friend he has that Frank knows of, has hair that is honestly bigger than the Empire State Building. Suffice to say that he’d probably be mortified to learn that Frank has literally seen him naked without his knowledge. And he knows what kind of noises he makes too. 

Frank actually blushes, literally turns red just thinking about it and he has to turn away to hide his face. He’s about four hundred percent certain that Gerard knows Frank’s been looking at him all throughout the class, but he’s been doing whatever he possibly can to pretend he hasn’t noticed. He’s looked everywhere, every single corner of the room to avoid making eye contact with Frank. Frank can’t stop looking back at him now though, because all of a sudden, he’s sure that Gerard is easily the most attractive guy in school.

Now obviously, if you were to think about it objectively, he really isn’t. There’s this guy on the swim team who could be a direct descendant of Adonis. There’s definitely some students who would contest that the student teacher for the Sophomore AP History class is the most attractive guy in the school. There’s that one popular Junior that everyone knows, even in Frank’s grade which is a year ahead of the guy, that could be a male model. There’s literally dozens of people who are more typically attractive than Gerard, but Frank can’t think of anyone at all who could ever be as gorgeous as he is. Ryan Reynolds doesn’t even have anything on Gerard at this point. Frank’s just completely targeted Gerard as the most beautiful man he can think of, and there’s nothing he can do to change that right now. 

Maybe it’s just because Frank knows Gee is gone, but he almost thinks that there’s something more attractive about the awkward looking teenager version of him. That’s easily untrue as well, because he’s really not, but Frank thinks he’s got this charming likeability to him. Gerard still has a little bit of baby fat in his cheeks, he’s kind of pimply, and his hair looks pretty greasy, but he’s just magnetic to Frank.

And so what if Frank is being majorly creepy with how much he keeps looking at Gerard? He can’t help it. He’s not really hurting anyone, he’s just being super creepy. But he can’t help himself.

Frank’s actually kind of sad when the bell rings, signaling the end of the class, because he knows he doesn’t have his next period with Gerard. He doesn’t know why that’s so upsetting, it just is. He really wants to look at him some more, maybe talk to him.

Frank’s struck with a sudden idea when he’s packing up his things. He’s taking his time, not anticipating having to deal with Brendon or Pete making weird remarks for an hour of class, when Frank looks around to distract himself to watch Gerard and his friend split up after leaving the room, which means that he’s on his own now. So if Frank were ever to go talk to him, it would be now. 

He doesn’t know what the hell he’s going to say, and he’s fairly sure that Brendon, Pete, or both of them are going to lecture him later for this, but Frank stows his stuff away as quickly as he possibly can, and he runs out of the classroom to catch up with Gerard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish you all a very happy Brendon Urie's birthday.


	5. I Don't Have A Creative Chapter Name, I'm So Disappointed In Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Gerard hates Frank’s guts.

Frank would deny this to anybody who asked, he’d even deny it to himself in the mirror, but catching up to Gerard, he thinks, hey, this is a good vantage point to maybe look at his ass. So he does, and maybe Gerard’s pants aren’t doing him any favors, they’re kind of baggy, probably only held on by his belt, but Frank doesn’t have to use too much of his imagination to guess what his ass is like. 

Frank hurries himself because there’s less than five minutes before the bell rings again and he needs to at least say something of a redeeming quality so that Gerard doesn’t think he’s completely insane. Though to be fair, even Frank isn’t ruling that out himself at this point.

He’s a few steps behind Gerard when he suddenly realizes that he doesn’t know what to start with. ‘Hi’ sounds too casual. ‘Hello’ is too formal. ‘Hey’ is too confrontational. ‘Sup’ is too idiotic. ‘What’s up’ is too nineties. He doesn’t know the right thing to say, so Frank just wings it.

“Gerard?” he settles on, making his way the final space between the two of them. 

Gerard looks at him very briefly before making a huffing sound and turning his head away. That’s not the ideal reaction Frank would’ve gotten out of him, but at least he didn’t punch him in the face or anything. 

Frank’s at a loss though when Gerard doesn’t respond. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t ask him what Frank wants, doesn’t chew him out, doesn’t say anything back at all. He just stays silent and continues walking. 

“Okay, so about earlier-”

“You high?” 

Frank’s at a loss for words for a moment before he starts tripping over his words, “What? No! I swear, I’m not, I just, like you reminded me of someone, and I, you were just, and I’m sorry.”

Gerard makes no attempt to reply, he just continues to walk down the hall, and Frank’s never found himself more confused as to what to say next than he finds himself now. He can’t think of a single word in the English language all of a sudden. The only word that’s coming to him is crêpe, and for the life of him, he doesn’t know why.

“You, uh, you don’t like me very much, do you?” Frank asks him.

“What ever would make you think that?” Gerard says, still not glancing at him, “you ignore me for nearly eight years, didn’t even bother to know my name, and now you’re talking to me just because I look like someone you know?” 

“I, well, I’m a very oblivious person, I wouldn’t take it to heart if I were you,” Frank says, thinking that he’s achieved a minor success given that he got Gerard talking at all.

“Oh well that makes it all better then, doesn’t it?” Gerard replies, oozing sarcasm. 

“I, well, I’m sorry?” Frank asks.

“For what? The ignoring me part, the not knowing my name part, the embarrassing yourself in front of me part, or the fact that you’re a complete idiot?”

“You don’t even know me, like, how could you know that I’m an idiot? I’m not denying anything, but you can’t _know_ that,” Frank asks, and then he realizes he just called himself an idiot, but he decides that if Gerard dislikes him, being self-deprecating is actually probably a good thing. 

“Because I’m not as unaware as you are.” 

Gerard’s taller than Frank, but that’s not saying much. He’s about as tall as Brendon, but Brendon’s height is more in his legs, while Gerard seems to have shorter legs so it’s not as hard to keep up with him. That doesn’t mean that Gerard isn’t walking as quickly as he can in an effort to shake Frank off. 

“So you think you know me?” Frank asks him.

“That’s not what I said,” Gerard replies, and it’s the first time when Frank thinks he might have caught Gerard off guard.

“Listen, I can’t take back any years of not knowing you exist, and we both know that, but I’m just trying to make amends now.”

“For what reason? So what if I look like someone you know, that doesn’t mean I want to talk to you.”

“Yeah well, maybe giving me a chance isn’t a bad idea,” Frank offers.

“Why do you care about me all of a sudden?” Gerard asks him, sounding pissed as all hell, which makes Frank’s bones feel like paper Mache. 

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Why _should_ you?” Gerard counteracts which is both a good point and also extremely hard to reply to.

“I think I’m allowed to try talking to you,” Frank groans.

“But I’m also allowed to ignore you,” Gerard replies. 

“So that’s what you’re just going to do then? Ignore me?”

Gerard doesn’t respond. He just keeps walking, almost losing Frank when he takes a sharp turn down a hallway. That’s a fairly self-explanatory response to Frank’s question though. Yes, he does plan on ignoring Frank. 

“Okay, well if you’re going to ignore me than this is a perfect time for me to tell you that I’m sorry if you think I’ve been a jerk to you. I mean, I think there’s a huge divergence between being a bitch and just plainly being unaware. I’m not friends with a lot of people, there are a lot of people I’ve been in the same class as for a bunch of years and never talked to, that’s not anything that’s on you, or me really. I hang out with my friends, it’s not really my fault if we’ve never socialized, there’s two people in this equation, Gerard. You and me, if you’re honestly going to hate me for the fact that I’ve never talked to you, I don’t see why it’s out of the cards for me to hate you back, because, like, it can go both ways.”

“Then explain to me why the fuck it is that I know your name, and you had no idea what mine was?” Gerard snaps at him. 

“Well it’s the same as when you watch a movie with someone and you know the actors names and your friend doesn’t. It’s just never been in a frame of passing for my life.”

“Yeah?” Gerard asks, not sounding at all pleased with the answer, “So I guess that all the times you and I have been in the same class, which has been at least once every year since sixth grade I should point out, and all the thousands of times during roll call when you could’ve paid attention to see what my fucking name was, that was just never in your frame of passing. Never once, not a single fucking time could you have listened for three seconds to find out what my name was? Frank, I hate to be the bringer of bad news here, but your argument is completely void of validity.”

“I, well, how was I supposed to know I’d need your name?” Frank questions.

“How about because I’m a human who deserves at least the bare minimum of respect,” Gerard retorts.

“Alright so you think I’m a piece of shit, and there’s literally nothing I can say to stop that, is there?”

“Nope.” 

“Well, that’s just great,” Frank sighs, “what if I were to tell you something embarrassing about myself, would that endear me to you?”

“Probably not.”

“Okay, well I’ll give it a go anyway. I, uh, once told a cashier I loved them after they handed me my change. I got my hand stuck in a vase once. I used to think Croatia was the capital of Austria.”

“All that says to me is that you’re a poor decision maker and bad at geography.”

“Well, I’m trying here, but I don’t know what else I can say,” Frank admits, “I honestly just don’t want you to hate me.”

“What makes me so special then?” Gerard asks him, and that’s a multifaceted question to say the least. Frank decides against admitting that he’s the younger version of the guy he fucked, because that would be a bad decision on many levels. The first being, Frank’s supposed to be straight, and the second being that he’d probably end up in a rubber room. 

“Can’t I just want to get to know you?”

“If the only reason you want to get to know me is because I look like someone else, leave me out of it,” Gerard says.

“Okay, you make a very good point there, but maybe the fact that you look like someone else is making me realize that I’ve never really talked to you and I feel guilty about it now?”

“Then that’s not my problem. Your guilt is yours to bare, not mine.”

“But-”

“Listen,” Gerard says, stopping in front of his classroom, and if Frank cared to notice, he’d realize that he’s going to be really late for his next class, because he’s about as far from the History classroom as he can possibly get while still being on campus. “If you honestly think I’m not used to the harassment of the popular guys by now, then you’re dumber than I gave you credit for. I’ve had three years to get used to being the gay guy that everyone wants to make fun of, alright? So I don’t need you to pile onto the shit everyone wants to call me. I get it, okay? I’m gross, and you probably want me to rot in hell or something. Just save it, I’ve heard it all before.”

“I-” Frank starts, feeling his mouth actually widen in disbelief. “I didn’t even know you were gay.”

“Yeah right,” Gerard says, “just piss off, okay?” 

At that, Gerard turns around to enter his class, leaving Frank just standing there to feel like an ultimate failure. He can’t even begin to think of how awful that all went. 

Frank turns around, looks at the faces of people walking by, unaware or uncaring of who they are. That only makes him feel even shittier though, because now he can’t help but to think that he treats everyone the same as he does Gerard, fully capable of learning who they are but neglecting to do so. But it’s not like he can know everyone. Frank’s only got so much room in his head to store information, and if he’s never going to need to know someone’s name, then why should he be expected to learn it. 

Frank hears the bell ring a few seconds after he starts to move off in the direction he should be going, and he groans, because he’s going to be late and he knows that for sure now. He might as well take his time, because there’s no chance that he’s going to get by on this one. Even if his teacher is late, he’s on the other side of the school. There are a few stragglers around him who start sprinting at the tone, but Frank instead aims for the bathroom. He decides it’d be a better idea to collect his thoughts now than to try to do it in class. At least he can have more privacy in front of a mirror than he would have in the seat next to his friends who are both going to be eying him strangely for the rest of the day. 

They have every right to, and Frank knows that. He’s been acting very strangely today. He’s been all over the place. Nothing he’s done or said has made much sense. First he’s supposed to be bragging about some chick he supposedly slept with, and then he’s freaking out over a nameless face that he’s seen a million times before. Now he’s late for class and he looks like he’s been to hell and back again.

Frank steps into the bathroom, which is empty, as he’d expected. He looks around to make sure before he huffs and stands in front of the mirror trying to grapple with how severely he’s messed up whatever he was trying to have with Gerard. He can’t think straight though because he just keeps cringing at the way that it all went down. He never anticipated that Gerard was going to _hate_ him. He maybe expected Gerard being uncomfortable, awkward, or wary around him, but Frank did not think that he could actually earn the hate of someone he’d never talked to.

Except now he has one piece of good news. He doesn’t have even the remotest chance of ever being able to utilize the information for his own benefit, but he now knows Gerard is gay. So although he hates Frank and has no intention of ever softening up to him, at least Frank has the knowledge that it’s not completely impossible. It’s highly improbable Gerard will ever look at him twice, but now Frank gets to have dreams that don’t make him feel as guilty. It’s never as easy to daydream about straight guys, it’s very uncomfortable really, but this, this is good news. 

Even if it is good news, Frank’s still left to mope away looking into his own eyes feeling like someone kicked him in the stomach. He doesn’t know why he’s so upset, Gee probably has nothing to do with Gerard in the slightest, but Frank can’t help but feel like the similarities outweigh the impossibility of the situation. They have the same voice, same face, same teeth, same everything. The only differences seem to be the most important ones though, like their age, and most importantly the fact that Gee seemed to be all over him, but Gerard, well, Gerard wants nothing to do with Frank. There’s probably nothing less ideal than the fact that Frank just might have a crush on the guy who just might hate his guts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, if you haven’t already, you can vote [here](http://www.poll-maker.com/poll292364x25b0F19f-11) for who you think tops, and your vote may go towards part of the future of this fic.


	6. Vulnerability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The logistics of time travel.

Frank decided a long time ago that thinking is done best when upside down. His logic may be faulty, but his hearts in the right place. 

This is how he finds himself with his head lolling off the side of his bed looking at Brendon whose forehead looks, if it’s possible, larger when you’re upside down than it does right side up.

“You okay?” Brendon asks.

“I’m thinking.”

“About what?”

“Toads.”

“Toads?” Brendon asks, looking confused. “Really?”

“No not really, I just wanted to see your reaction,” Frank says.

“Okay well what are you actually thinking about then?” Pete asks, he’s sitting in Frank’s desk chair, but he’s got it turned around with his notebook resting on his knee, and that officially makes him taller than the other two because Brendon’s sitting on the ground.

“I’m just thinking about how it’s possible to know two people who have the exact same face only one of them is nearly ten years older than the other.”

“Oh no, not this again,” Brendon sighs, shaking his head.

“What? It’s confusing!” 

“No, it really isn’t, Frank. You’re delusional, because that Gerard guy was literally just a regular person. He was not some clone or whatever of whoever the hell you think he was. And besides, the guy you say he looked like, the guy from the bar, you got a look at him for what, like three minutes? You really think that you can have that great a picture of someone you barely even knew and barely even talked to? I think your head is just making things up.”

Frank would really like to correct Brendon and say that he definitely got a longer look at ‘the guy from the bar’ and that he knows without a doubt that they had the same face, right down to the same tiny teeth. He would like to say that he knows the man’s name to start with the letter G, because he called himself Gee. He wants to say that the guy was really mysterious about who he was, which even further proves that he was Gerard somehow.

“It was him, I swear it.”

“Yeah, and my goldfish is George Clooney.”

“You don’t even have a goldfish,” Pete retorts.

“Well if I did, he would be as much George Clooney as the guy Frank thinks is one of our classmates.”

“Do you even know that kid?” Pete asks, Frank doesn’t know if he’s asking either of them in particular. 

“Not really,” Brendon shakes his head, “I mean I’ve seen the guy around, and I think he’s in my gym class, but I’ve never talked with him much. He seems like a bit of a loser.”

“Don’t say that,” Frank snaps, lifting himself upright to scowl at Brendon. He gets a head rush when he’s right side up and his eyes feel weird for a moment before the world starts to fall back into place, and he finds himself being stared at by the both of them. 

“What do you care?”

“Well, I mean, that’s just rude,” Frank says.

“You are going crazy,” Pete shakes his head.

“No I just don’t think it’s very polite to talk behind people’s backs.”

“You don’t even know him, Frank.”

“But it’s still mean.”

“Okay, whatever,” Brendon shakes his head, looking down at his textbook. Brendon starts talking math which is what they are trying to be studying for in the first place, but that’s when Frank starts to tune out. 

The best theory he’s come up with is that Gee has to be some sort of makeup enthusiast, or know a makeup enthusiast. That’s the only thing that makes sense. If Frank lived in a TV show, he would say that the obvious solution to this problem is that Gerard is either a shape shifter or a time traveler, but seeing as this is not a science fiction show, he knows that neither of those can be true. If that were real than the time Frank stared at a spoon for three hours when he was ten would have had a much more fruitful result, and he would’ve been able to bend that damn spoon with his mind. Unfortunately, that did not work and his cereal was really soggy at that point.

“Frank!” Brendon says loudly, and by the tone of his voice, Frank knows that he must’ve repeated his name a couple of times, but he was too tuned out to hear. 

“What?”

“Are you paying attention at all?”

“Uh, no. So on a scale from one to ten, how feasible do you think time travel is?”

“Oh no,” Pete says, his head falling back like he’s given up all hope.

“Ten being highly possible, and one being not at all?” Brendon asks.

“Yes.”

“Okay then nine,” Brendon says.

“Oh god, don’t entertain him!” Pete says, and that could definitely be directed at either of them, because Brendon is the one who believes in that sort of thing while Frank is just completely out of options as to who the hell Gee is. 

“Nine?”

“Well I think it’s possible but I think it’s probably like really hard to ever get that amount of energy, like you’d need a lot of fucking power to do that, and I feel like it’s more likely that we would be able to leap _forward_ rather than back, but I don’t know by how much, because the past feels like it’s in the past already, you know?” 

“But the future hasn’t happened yet,” Frank replies.

“Oh god,” Pete says and that’s when he starts hitting himself in the face with his notebook.

“Okay, but we’re time traveling right now, at this very second. We’re traveling a second at a time through time, so like, we are time traveling to the future as we speak, so why should it be impossible to just speed that time up? Like shorten the length between point A and point B.”

“Yeah, but I think travelling backward should be pretty much as plausible as forward, because, if it were possible, why wouldn’t we be able to go backwards?”

“I don’t know, I suppose it’s possible either way, but my money is on traveling to the future rather than travelling to the past.”

“I think the other problem is that we don’t know the laws of it. There’s no written guide that explains everything in twelve point font. It’s all guesswork. It could go any which way really. So like, what kind of time travel rules are we following, if we can time travel?” Frank says.

“Well yeah, but obviously the timeline we’re going through now is canonical so everything has to happen this way, because you can’t _change_ it. The world is inherently the way it is now. If I were to time travel back to five minutes ago, nothing at all could be any different. I think I’d be setting everything up for it to work out the way that it eventually ends up being,” Brendon replies.

“Yeah, but maybe it’s more Back to the Future style, because like, if you go back in time to change it, maybe it’s flexible, right? So like you go back in time, kill Hitler, and because of the fact that you killed Hitler, by some crazy happenstance of dominoes falling together, your parents never met then, and you cease to exist.”

“No, I think it’s like going back in time to save Buckbeak, because you go back in time, you save him, everything is right with the world, but you didn’t actually change anything, because everything was always set to follow the strict timeline of you having to go back in time to save Buckbeak in the first place.”

“Would you two shut the fuck up?” Pete says. “Time travel is not real. If it were real, why would no one have proved it to us by now? If it were real, someone would have traveled back in time shouted ‘yo time travel is real’ and we would read about it in textbooks!” 

“But anyone who tries to claim time travel is real is institutionalized because we’re so trained to believe that it’s not real,” Brendon points out.

“Exactly!” Frank says.

“If you two don’t shut up about time travel, I am going to throw myself out the fucking window,” Pete declares. 

“What a party pooper,” Brendon sighs, looking contemptuously back at the textbook in his lap.

“Pete, maybe it is real-”

“Literally a week ago, you and I both agreed that it wasn’t,” Pete says. “Science _fiction_. Fiction Frank, we talked about this! It is fictional!”

“Maybe I’m starting to change my mind,” Frank shrugs.

“No! No changing your mind. Time travel is not real, and Back to the Future is not a documentary.”

“I never claimed it was, this is all just theory,” Frank says.

“Okay, Frank, I will spell this out for you. The guy you saw at the bar was a completely different person than Gerard. Absolutely no time travel at all was involved,” Pete says, talking slowly like Frank is a child.

“Yeah, you say that now, but if you’d seen them, like if they were side by side-”

“Maybe they did look similar, maybe I would say ‘huh, those two guys look alike’ but even if that were the case, you would not be able to convince me that they were the same person.”

Frank’s trying to remember, remember anything at all distinguishable about Gee that no one else would have, like a scar or a mole or something. He’s having a hard time remembering anything that stuck out more than his teeth. Frank would probably be able to tell you if they had the same body if he were to see Gerard without clothes, but that’s a little creepy to think about.

Then Frank starts to think really deeply about all the things he said. A lot of it seems to support the far off idea that somehow, Gerard or Gee or whoever the hell he is time traveled. Frank scoffs to himself internally because even he doesn’t think the sound of it is real, but he also feels like that’s the only option. Every minute he thinks about it, the makeup thing seems even more implausible, how on earth would Gee have been able to lose weight and grow his hair out, and how would you be able to hide that? Makeup can’t do that. A wig probably could, but the weight thing is a different issue altogether.

Frank’s only realistic theory isn’t even realistic. His only impossible theory is the only one that makes any sense. Time travel can’t be real though, and Frank knows that. He feels like he’s going insane just thinking about all of this. 

“He’s spacing out again,” Brendon sighs, and he slams his textbook against the floor to get Franks attention. He jumps, frowns, and flips off Brendon.

“We need to do math problems, Frank. We don’t have time for your Gerard theories, okay?”

“You know he hates me,” Frank says sadly.

“Who does?”

“Gerard.”

“When did you talk to... please tell me you did not talk to him after the thing at lunch,” Pete says.

“I did,” Frank nods, “and he hates me. He made that pretty damn clear. It was so, just, ugh. I didn’t know that he hated me like that. I just wanted to talk to him, and try to clear things up, and maybe, I don’t know.” 

“Why does it matter?” Brendon asks, “What’s so important about him anyway? Even if the guy at the bar was the time traveling version of Gerard, and I’m not saying I believe that, but even if he was, why would you care? How would that effect you?”

“It’s just... it would, I guess. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“But you have no connection to him. Like, at all.”

Frank opens his mouth, ready to say something when he finds it impossible. He knows that this would be a great time to just go for it. He could just say it. He could just say that he’s gay and he could confess what happened and he could stop lying, but his mouth argues with him.

Suddenly it feels like the sides of his mouth are being zipped together to block off everything. The moisture in his mouth disappears leaving in its place this acidic stinging feel. His throat closes in, and he thinks that this what an asthma attack would feel like, because he can’t fucking _breathe_ from the weight on his chest like an elephant deciding to take a seat on his lungs.

And everything in him is telling him to just say it. To just get it out. He wants to come clean, tell them who he is, and he trusts that they’ll accept him, he really does, but he can’t get it to leave his mouth already. The stinging in his mouth turns to burning and it’s all he can bear to not just vomit off the side of the bed, because that’s what it feels like he needs, but at the same time, it feels like he’s never eaten anything before because his stomach and insides feel empty.

But Brendon is the rebellious kid who’s all but given up religion completely, and Pete talks about people he would ‘totally tap if I were gay, hot damn, what an ass.’ Frank knows that he could trust these guys, he knows it, but he can’t get the words to come out.

When Frank’s brain finally gives in, tells him that he can’t do it, can’t say it, everything seems to loosen up, and he’s able to unstick his sealed lips for the first time in what feels like weeks. Frank wants to say it, he wants to admit everything, come out to two of the most important people in his life, but he can’t. It’s not that he doesn’t want to and it’s not that he’s not trying, he simply _can’t_ do it. The words don’t form. They get stuck on the tip of his tongue and then they melt away before ever making it further than that. 

“Dude, you okay? You look kind of sick,” Pete says, eyebrows furrowed together in concern, and Frank hates himself, because he knows that these two are good people, but he still can’t say the words that he most direly wishes he could say. He just can’t. He wants to, wants to be unashamed, but he’s not capable of it. Not now at least.

That’s what makes Frank remember Gee the clearest. He felt so safe. That’s the best word for it. He knew the guy for less than three days. He knew nothing about him other than what Gee told him, but he felt so safe and warm and comfortable. There was no hiding, there was no pretending, it was just Frank being himself. He was the most vulnerable he’d ever been, probably in his entire life. If Frank had been strapped to a dead seal and stuck in the middle of a shark tank, he wouldn’t have been any more vulnerable than he had been with Gee.

With Gee, for one thing he had been technically very rarely clothed so that was one thing, but that wasn’t the thing that made him the most vulnerable. It was the fact that he’d never told anyone. Never said a peep to anyone. He’s never hinted at it, not even to his mother. For all intense and purposes, Frank is straighter than anyone else in the entire school. But then he was stripped of that guise with Gee, and he was completely out there, trusting Gee not to take that information and ruin Frank’s life with it. He was just completely laid out for Gee, and it was freeing. 

But Gee’s gone now, and Frank has this hope, this undying, unbearable hope right in the middle of his chest that Gee is still there. Maybe Gee really is Gerard, and maybe that safety Frank had felt with him, he can still have. Maybe Gerard is Gee, and he was the whole time, and that hope is agonizing. Frank wants that so much that it’s beginning to eat him up just thinking about how close and yet so far it is from being real. He wants to have Gee again so much, that maybe he is delusional and seeing him in Gerard, or maybe he’s hyperaware and that’s why it was so easy to spot Gee and Gerard for one and the same.

Frank just wants to feel safe again. He wants to stop feeling like someone’s stifling him in this fake personality that he puts on, and he just wants to talk to someone who knows who he is.

He wants to have Gee back. Really, that’s all he wants. He shouldn’t feel the way he does about the guy considering how little he knew him, but that doesn’t change the way he feels. He knows how he should feel, but he also knows how he does feel, and the fact that they don’t lineup is not something that he can change. 

Frank wants Gee, and Gee, somehow, he’s got to be Gerard. By extension he wants Gerard. He really wants him. He doesn’t just want to fuck him or anything, he wants to know Gerard inside and out. Wants to know every last one of his thoughts and every single inch of him. He wants to feel safe even when he’s vulnerable. 

But what he has now is two friends looking at him like he’s just grown a second head. He doesn’t want that, but that’s the nature of the world that he has no choice but to deal with.

Frank frowns, looks out the window where he can just barely see the roofing where he sat a day ago with Gee. It feels like much longer, it doesn’t feel like it’s only been a day since he left. It feels like years. He can’t believe he confronted Gerard only a few hours ago. That feels like an ancient memory, one written in a book that he didn’t experience, only read about. 

“I’m fine,” Frank lies, “let’s get back to those equations.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will love you forever if you comment. I will love you forever if you don't comment too, but I would still appreciate it.


	7. The Wooing of Gerard Commences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black holes and revelations?

Frank wakes up in a cold sweat from a very peculiar dream. It’s more of a memory than anything else but usually when you have a dream about fucking someone it doesn’t feel like you’ve just woken up from a dream about being chased by Chuckie. 

Frank looks around the dark room trying to calm his breathing, wondering why on earth it bothered him so much. Maybe it was because of the fact that he knows it’s never going to happen again and that feels like a stab in the gut. He wants it to happen again. He wants to make out with Gee again and spend a weekend with him, and do everything with him. Frank has no idea why he feels so strong so quickly. He shouldn’t and he knows that and he hates that he knows that because it just makes him feel guilty about it. He can’t change the fact that there is something about that guy. There was just something about Gee. This glimmer. There was such a weird gravitational pull of some sort about him that kept Frank close, made him cling, and now he’s gone.

Frank’s stuck here, the same old high schooler in the same old dumb bedroom, in the same old bed sheets, looking back at the same old faces on the same old posters on the same old walls. Nothing’s changed. He knows that nothing has changed. He looks around and he sees everything the way it was a week ago, but everything is different. It’s like the opposite of tainted, everything that is in this room, was seen or touched by Gee. Frank looks at the pillow beneath his head and he remembers when Gee’s head was there, right where Frank’s head is now, his head was here, but now it’s not. If Frank breathes in deep enough he can smell him. He can smell Gee. He’d smelled like cinnamon, and like soap, and like coffee. It was nice, he felt warm. 

Frank looks at the red light from across the room where his clock shows the time, and he feels a groaning sound come from him when he realizes it’s four in the morning. He’s tired, he feels his bones protesting to go back to sleep, but he knows that nothing will actually come of it. He’s awake, he knows he is. He would really rather not be. He would rather be blissfully dreaming about clouds and jelly beans, but he’s awake and there’s no point in trying to get back to sleep if he’s going to have to be awake soon anyway.

That’s why Frank finds himself being pulled by his body out of bed, which he would really rather not do, and wandering into the bathroom, which he would also really rather not do, to take a shower, which he is actually kind of okay with.

Frank tries to wash away this panging feeling in his gut that he’s never going to see Gee. He knows that’s true, but at the same time there’s Gerard. But he’s not the same person, and even though Frank knows that, he still feels like that’s untrue. Gerard is Gee, he has to be, but even if he’s the same person, he’s different because he has different experiences to Gee.

If Frank’s guess is right and Gee really is Gerard somehow from the future, then he has different memories. He has a different view of the world, different knowledge, different wisdom, and different memories. He’s probably a completely different person than Gerard is. And the sad thing is that Frank wants to be with Gee not Gerard. He doesn’t want Gerard, Gerard is a different person in Frank’s mind. He wants Gee. 

Frank’s mind drifts to the reality of Gee’s words, because then he starts to put the pieces together. Gee married his high school sweetheart. It’s not really cheating. It’s not an open marriage. It’s a unique situation. 

Frank has this moment where he just stops thinking, barely even feels the water falling over his head, because it finally makes sense. Gee, the Gee that Frank met, he was married to Frank. Frank from the future. Future Frank was married to Gee who was Future Gerard, and Frank should stop calling him Gee because he’s really just future Gerard.

“Fuck,” Frank frowns, looking at the water swirling down into the drain below him. Now he can’t stop his mind from wandering because, wow, it’s kind of creepy that he slept with a guy who’d seen him naked before. He doesn’t know why that’s what bothers him, literally while he’s standing naked in a shower, but it does. Then he realizes that the exact same thing happened yesterday when he saw Gerard, because the guy is the same person. He just is. He’s got a bit of a different temperament, but he’s the same person. Frank’s being somewhat hypocritical about the whole naked thing, but it’s still weird.

Frank’s heart starts racing because he literally just decided that he’s married to Gerard from the future which is an odd thought to have whilst shampooing. 

That’s a lot to take in at four in the morning. He’s not sure how he feels about this theory, because it still is a theory right now. It’s the only theory that makes sense, but it’s only a theory. He’s not old enough to be deciding who he’s marrying, but it’s not like he really has a choice in the decision, he literally met his future husband. How the fuck is that even possible. _Why_ the fuck is it even possible?

He’s suddenly astounded by his own lax attitude towards the idea of time traveling. Yesterday he was completely skeptic, if not a little curious, but today he’s just kind of accepted it. What other possibility is there? Gee is Gerard, who is his future husband. The reason it’s not cheating is because Gerard is married to future Frank and went back in time to have sex with past Frank, or present day Frank.

Frank’s brain hurts.

Frank turns the shower off and he stands there for a couple of minutes thinking.

If he marries Gerard, than that means he actually is going to have to hang out with Gerard, but Gerard seems to hate him. What had Gee said? Something about Frank being clingy for the first couple of weeks? That makes him frown because he doesn’t want to be that guy. He doesn’t want to be the weirdo who clings to Gerard even though he has no chance with him. But he obviously does have a chance if he marries the guy.

But how on earth does that happen? How is he supposed to marry the guy if Gerard hates him? How does Frank know that Gee wasn’t lying through his teeth? Maybe he wasn’t at all affiliated with Gerard? Maybe he escaped from a psych ward, traveled back in time and pretended to be Frank’s future husband. Except if that were true than how on earth was it possible that he knew basically everything there was to know about him? Like, the guy knew some things Frank didn’t even know about himself. Apparently he’s really sensitive in the space on his neck that’s just below his ear and putting your mouth there makes him whine, and there’s no way that Gee could have just spontaneously figured that out without any prior knowledge of him first. Frank didn’t know that about himself, how the hell did Gee?

There’s just this really substantial part of him that _wants_ to believe it. Frank really fucking wants to believe that he was married to Gee. He wants that to be true. Because of the fact that he wants it, it makes it easier to believe everything he’s thinking. He wants to believe that he’s going to end up marrying Gerard who will become Gee. He wants that so much that he can’t even think straight with how much he wants that. 

He wants to be high school sweethearts with Gerard and take the guy to prom and, fuck it, why is everything about this so romantic and sweet? This should be crazy, insane, and worrying, not desirable. But he wants it so much. He wants to believe it, and he’s decided that, to hell with logic, he does believe it.

He’s going to marry Gerard, one way or another, it happened so it’s got to happen again, he supposes. But that’s a scary thought because he doesn’t know what timeline he’s following, whether it’s flexible or fixed. He really hopes that it’s fixed because he wants to know that he’s going to end up with Gee, but he doesn’t have that assurance, he can only guess. He really hopes that it’s destined to be though.

That only brings him back to the impossibility of Frank actually getting Gerard to like him, because the guy seems like he really hates Frank, and he honestly doesn’t blame him. He kind of thinks that Gerard has a good point on the matter. He really doesn’t deserve to be accepted by the guy, but Frank just wants to date him so much. He doesn’t know why, he just knows that he does. He wants to date Gerard and there’s nothing he can do about that desire.

Frank realizes that he’s still standing in the shower, dripping off water and freezing. He can’t believe he got so distracted that he didn’t realize he was turning into a Popsicle. Or maybe frozen gelato because he’s Italian.

Frank steps out of the shower covers himself with a towel and has a minor panic attack at the fact that he doesn’t know how to date a boy, least of all Gerard. He’s got problems with the whole not being out at all, so how on earth is he supposed to get Gerard to fall in love with him? This seems too difficult. He wants to just zap himself to the future and replace that future Frank with himself.

He cannot believe he’s jealous of future him. They are literally the same person. Future Frank is still Frank, he’s just the future version of him. Frank is literally jealous of that guy for being married to Gee, when they are the same person. How the hell did he manage it? How did that Frank manage to get Gee to go for him? What are his secrets, because Frank needs to know in order to have that future become his own reality?

This is all too complicated, why can’t he just time travel forward and save the trouble? He knows that he’s got to earn all the things that his future self has, but he’s still impatient and lazy. He wants it now, no ten years from now. Now now. The now that is present.

Frank’s brain is going to melt if he keeps trying to figure this out, he’s sure of that.

He tries to completely shut it all down and that’s how he ends up filling his thoughts with the injustice of Firefly’s cancelation for the next hour and half.

He considers it to be child cruelty to make school start to early, but he’s awake early enough so actually fill himself with coffee today. This morning feels fake, feels like a movie scene, because it doesn’t feel like it’s possible for him to be sitting here at the kitchen counter drinking coffee when somewhere in the future he’s probably having sex with Gee or something. That just doesn’t seem fair, and it makes the reality around him seem like a movie set.

He doesn’t want to go to school, and he doesn’t want to have to try to get closer to Gerard, because he just wants to go up to Gerard and ask him out and have him say yes. He just wants it to be easy, he didn’t sign up for this. He could easily just not pursue Gerard, but then again, he can’t. He’s not capable of that. He can’t just give up any chance with Gerard, he doesn’t have that in him. He’s not going to be happy about it, but he will sure as hell try to get Gerard to fall in love with him. 

Frank looks over at the clock, bitter over how early it is, and even more bitter about the fact that he has to leave for school, because he does not want to do that in the slightest. The only silver lining is that he’s going to see Gerard. It’s going to be a very embarrassing day of exchanges, he knows that, but he’s actually kind of excited to try. As of today, the wooing of Gerard commences. 

He’s pretty used to going into lifeless Frank mode, it’s the only way he’s able to survive the school day. Lifeless Frank mode is when he lets his body take over and doesn’t think about what he’s doing in the slightest. He’s more reliable in this state, but will not hear a single word you say to him. 

He’s a fairly good driver in this state though, and he only starts to actually pay attention to what he’s doing when he pulls into the parking lot of the school, early enough that it’s not filled up yet.

Frank would be lying if he said that he wasn’t looking for a specific someone with dark black hair while he sits in his seat in the car. He’s not ready to actually get up yet, and the school doors don’t open for another few minutes anyway. There’s a group of people standing outside the doors, large enough that Gerard could be in there somewhere but not too large that Frank won’t be able to spot him.

Too his displeasure though, he doesn’t see Gerard. He sits in his spot and he decides to wait, no need to go outside in the murky cloudy weather. The sky had opened up to the sun yesterday, but apart from that it’s been grey all week.

Frank’s about to give up and decide that Gerard is coming in on a bus or something when he spots him, and he smiles for the first time today. Frank quickly pulls himself from his seat, grabs his backpack and locks the car door before he’s hurrying off to catch up with Gerard, who’s making his way to enter the big mass of people that’s steadily grown in the last few minutes.

Gerard is with someone, the guy who Frank assumes is his brother, but he can’t recall the guy’s name. Frank supposes that that makes him his future brother in law. Weird. He should probably learn the dudes name if he’s going to spend Thanksgivings with him someday.

The instant that Frank calls out to him, Gerard turns around with this look of complete annoyance in his eye that Frank was fully expecting, but is still hurt by.

“Oh not again,” he says, looking pissed when Frank finally catches up. Frank wonders if he knows that he stopped walking the second he saw Frank. He probably doesn’t know, it was probably an unconscious thing. Or maybe he wanted Frank to catch up and just isn’t going to admit to it. 

“Good morning,” Frank says, walking in stride with him. His brother, who’s on Gerard’s other side, looks at Frank confusedly, and doesn’t tear his eyes away even though staring is considered rude.

“It _was_ , but now you’re here,” Gerard replies and Frank frowns. “What do you want this time?”

“Why do I have to want something? Maybe I just like talking to you,” Frank says and they come to a stop behind the huddle of people outside of the doors.

Gerard’s brother says, “Hey Gee, I’m going to go find Ray, see you later?”

“Please don’t go,” Gerard is saying, but he’s scurrying off before Gerard’s words even register. “Oh great.”

“Hey, what’s so wrong with me?” Frank asks.

“Nothing really. It’s mostly just your personality, and face, and voice, and everything else about you.”

“Wow, don’t sugarcoat it.”

“Okay. And it’s your arrogance, your hair, your intelligence, or lack thereof, your-”

“It was a figure of speech,” Frank interrupts him.

“Could you maybe not talk to me? Could you just, like, go anywhere else at all on the earth instead of stand right next to me?” Gerard asks him.

“But I want to,” Frank replies.

“Why do you want to do that? I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I don’t want to talk to you,” Gerard responds.

The bell rings, broken sounding in the crisp outdoor air, and the crowd of people starts agitating seconds after the sound. Frank can see Gerard getting antsy and he’s probably trying to come up with an escape route to get away from Frank, but he’s not going to be that easy to get rid of.

Or at least, he wasn’t going to be until someone puts their hand on his shoulder and Frank’s being physically stopped from moving by Brendon. Frank was not, until today, aware of how strong his grip is, because he tries to shrug the guy off and chase after Gerard, but he actually can’t.

“Were you bothering that dude again?” Brendon asks him.

“No!” Frank responds too quickly, making his lie all the more transparent. Frank spots Gerard looking back at him, and he likes to think that the look on his face is one of disappointment. That’s what it looks like to Frank, but he knows that that’s because his mind is playing tricks on him. No way in hell is Gerard actually disappointed to shake Frank off.

“You have got to stop that,” Brendon says. “What do you want from him? You’re so weird.” Brendon finally lets him go, but Gerard’s lost in the sea of people so Frank can’t follow. He starts walking with Brendon, more upset than he really should be, but he can’t help himself.

“I just want... to chat?” Frank says.

“Really, because it looks like you’re waiting on a wedding proposal,” Brendon says, and Frank almost physically freezes in fear. What did Brendon say? Frank’s straight as far as Brendon knows, so what is he talking about?

“What? No! Gross, absolutely not. He’s a dude, no,” Frank says, unsure if he’s convincing.

“I didn’t mean literally,” Brendon says, his response far more relaxed than the words that just came out of Frank’s mouth had been, “I just meant that you were acting really weird. You have been ever since lunch yesterday.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank shrugs, “I just, I don’t like it when people dislike me.”

“And do you also make a habit of thinking that strange men are also your classmates?”

“No,” Frank says, sighing, “Just forget it okay? Don’t mention this to Pete, he already thinks I’m crazy.”

Brendon rolls his eyes and gives Frank a half-hearted wave along with a “whatever” before the two of them split up, because their lockers are down two different halls.

Frank curses to himself, knowing he’s literally as awkward about this whole thing as he could possibly be. He just wants to have Gerard’s undying love, is that too much to ask? Frank decides that yes, it probably is. At least for now it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still think "woo" is a dumb word.


	8. A Life-Size Cardboard Cutout of David Bowie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just for the record, the plural of sheep is sheep.

Frank finds himself in a confusing situation after third period. He avoids Brendon and Pete to the best of his ability and follows Gerard out of the building, though he doesn’t seem to have taken notice quite yet.

Gerard certainly does notice him the minute he sits down next to his brother under the shade of a tree, and the look on his face is completely confrontational. It’s almost like he’s daring Frank to sit down. He doesn’t’ know if he should. He knows what Gerard is going to think, how he’s going to respond to Frank, and he knows precisely how Brendon and Pete will feel too. He’s pushing this too much, pushing himself at Gerard far too much considering how much Gerard seems to hate him. He knows that he should back off and take this easy, but he can’t help it. He likes Gerard. He likes him a lot, and he knows that it’s all projected feelings, just a place for his feelings for Gee to go, but Frank is young, stupid, and mildly insane right now.

He knows he’s probably lost his head completely, because, seriously, he has all but decided that he slept with the future version of a boy in his school who he has also decided is his future husband. It’s stupid. It makes no sense. It’s not logical in the slightest and he knows it isn’t. He can’t even fathom how fucking crazy this all is. Literally anyone else in the world would think him completely mental, and they’d probably be right. Frank’s not even sure that he is absolutely sane.

The thing is that, even if he is going crazy, even if Gee and Gerard really have no connection at all whatsoever, there’s no real reason for why Frank _can’t_ have a crush on Gerard. There’s nothing really stopping him from feeling that way. Obviously there are some people, like his friends, Gerard, the entire school, and even himself, but Frank’s too caught up in the whole thing to care.

So, Frank walks over to the patch of grass across from Gerard, and he sits down. 

“I cannot believe you,” Gerard shakes his head.

“I’m taking that as a compliment.”

“It’s Frank right?” Gerard’s brother asks, looking at Frank and then back at Gerard with a smirk on his face that Frank does not understand at all.

“Yep,” Frank says, and he’s debating whether or not he’s supposed to shake the guys hand, but he doesn’t know whether that would be way too formal or what.

“Mikey,” he says, and he nods so Frank assumes that he’d better just not even attempt to do anything, just sort of wave back at him. Frank decides that the name suits him, he looks like a Mikey. Kind of mousy, but a strong jaw and eyes so intense that they can probably shoot laser beams.

“Don’t entertain him,” Gerard says.

“Why? What’s wrong with him?” Mikey asks.

“Don’t even get me started.”

“I recall there being something about my personality, face, voice, and everything else,” Frank says.

“Yep,” Gerard nods. “So you have the ability to listen, that’s great, good for you. Where was that in class every day since middle school?”

“I’m not trying to be a jerk here, you know,” Frank says, frowning.

“Gerard’s the one being the jerk,” Mikey says to Frank, and Frank decides that he likes him. Thanksgivings may not be so bad. 

“Do not take his side!” Gerard says angrily, and Frank is astounded by his ability to make eating a cracker look aggressive. Gerard must really hate him if he can actually manage to make chewing a fucking Ritz look violent.

“What do you have against him?” Mikey asks, talking like Frank’s not even there, except Mikey is looking at him analytically like he’s trying to figure Frank out.

Gerard just shrugs, and declines to answer. He puts his head down and lets his hair fall into his face so that he doesn’t have to even look at Frank. 

“I think it’s because of the fact that I didn’t notice him for a couple of years.”

“Translation,” Gerard says, “he completely ignored my entire existence for eight years.”

“I did not.”

“You didn’t know my name,” Gerard says, “How could you not know my name?” 

“Well, did you know _my_ name?”

“Of course I fucking knew your name, everyone knows your name,” Gerard says.

“They do?”

Gerard scoffs, eyes him for a minute, and then looks away. Frank can’t figure him out, there’s just something off about him that he wants to understand.

“Well, I didn’t know his name,” Mikey shrugs, and he takes a bite of whatever sandwich he’s eating. Frank had almost completely forgotten about eating, but he doesn’t know if he should. He really has problems with etiquette especially with people he’s never talked to before. His idea of classy is nonexistent. Frank has almost no standards, and when it comes to people, he also has trouble with boundaries. 

Frank’s moment of thought is lost when someone sits down next to Mikey, closer to Frank than the other two, but not really that close at all, and he looks over to see it’s the guy who he recognizes by hair only. 

Without even looking up the guy says, “so why is he there?” His voice really does not match his face even remotely. It’s way too light to be his, and Frank’s almost taken aback when he hears him speak. 

“He’s been stalking me,” Gerard replies to the guy. 

“Stalking is a strong word,” Frank says.

“But it’s a completely accurate word.”

“It’s not!” Frank says, trying to defend himself. 

“Okay, so what do you call following someone and bugging them even though they’ve made it expressly clear that they dislike you?” Gerard asks.

“Determination,” Frank says, and Mikey snorts. 

“Sorry, it’s just, you’ve got one hell of a way of making friends,” Mikey explains.

“He’s going to fail either way,” Gerard says. Frank is pretty sure that the guy with the gigantic hair hasn’t made any eye contact with him at all, probably ever, and he’s starting to wonder why that is. 

“That’s Ray by the way,” Mikey says, almost like he’s reading Frank’s mind. Frank thanks him with a nod of his head, gets hypnotized in Mikey’s jawline and then has to turn away because he’s pretty sure he could cut glass on that fucking jaw. 

“So we’re sitting here today,” Pete’s voice interrupts the uncomfortable silence and Frank can feel the air moving when he sits down beside him. Brendon does not seem so anxious to comply, but does so anyway, probably because he doesn’t want to go sit somewhere else by himself. 

“No, you’re not! Oh fuck,” Gerard says, but it’s too late, Pete has a way of making himself comfortable. 

“Well this is an interesting turn of events,” Mikey declares, and yes, Frank likes him, he likes his sense of humor. He _likes_ his brother though. He really likes Mikey’s brother. Pete makes a quick introduction of himself and Brendon, and Mikey does the same, while Frank tries his best to make eye contact with Gerard who is trying his best to look anywhere but at Frank. He’s not very good at it, actually, he always seems to let his eyes trace over Frank’s whenever he looks somewhere else. Frank’s caught off guard by this weird feeling in his stomach whenever his and Gerard’s eyes meet, like butterflies in his stomach even though he’s not that nervous.

“Has Frank been creepy with you too?” Pete asks, staring at Mikey with an odd expression that Frank has decided that he doesn’t want to understand. When it comes to Pete doing things, anything, his general position is to avoid like the plague the rationale behind whatever it is. 

“Yes,” Gerard says stiffly.

“No!” Frank replies.

“Well no offense, but when it concerns how I personally feel about something, it doesn’t really concern you, does it?” Gerard spits at him, and Frank all of a sudden feels like he’s aboard the sinking Titanic. He can’t stand how much Gerard hates him when Frank is so bursting with emotions to the contrary of that. 

“I’m not trying to be mean,” Frank says quietly, “I honestly just want to talk to you a little.”

“And why is that exactly?” Gerard questions him, eating another cracker with such furiousness he could be bursting into flames any minute now.

“Because,” Frank shrugs.

“What a great answer,” Gerard replies sarcastically. 

“So who here knows what the proper term for plural sheep is?” Pete asks, which is apparently his way of changing the subject.

“I think it’s just sheep, Pete,” Brendon says. 

“Are you sure?” Pete asks, “Could be sheeps.”

“No, I’m fairly sure it’s sheep.”

“Well I’m fairly sure that you’re an idiot. I say it’s sheeps,” Pete declares.

“No, you wouldn’t say, ‘hey look at those sheeps over there’ you would say ‘hey look at those sheep over there,’” Brendon says.

“Well, you might say it that way, but I would say sheeps.”

“How many sheep do you expect to find in the middle of suburbia anyway?” Mikey asks, joining what Frank has decided is quite possibly the stupidest conversation to have ever been held. 

“I don’t know, I just think that there’s bound to be an event you’ll come to in which you’ll need to know the plural form of sheep,” Pete shrugs.

“Yes, because of the annual plural form of a word contest they have at the community center,” Brendon says, with so much sarcasm Frank can almost feel himself aging from it. 

“Don’t sass me, forehead,” Pete says, and Mikey laughs unusually loud at that. 

“Sheepen,” The Ray guy says. He doesn’t seem the most talkative, Frank has decided, but he seems thoroughly invested in the sheep debate, while Gerard could be in a different universe with the look on his face. He doesn’t even look annoyed, he’s just looking off, somewhere behind Frank’s left ear, with utter determination. 

“Gerard, what do you think?” Mikey asks.

“What?”

“Sheep,” Pete says, as an answer, which isn’t very helpful if he’d tuned out.

“What about them?” 

“Plural form of sheep,” Frank says, and Gerard scowls at Frank when he explains it, which doesn’t make sense to him. He was trying to be helpful, but he doesn’t know how to be apparently. 

“I don’t care,” Gerard says.

“That’s a great answer,” Brendon nods.

“I gotta go,” Gerard says, standing up quickly, but he’s pretty much cornered into the tree so he has to step over Mikey’s leg to leave, which he does. His need to get away from Frank is apparently stronger than his instinct to avoid embarrassing himself. From there, he’s whisking away across the sidewalk to the double door entrance of the school where Frank had caught up with him earlier this morning. 

“Well he hates my guts,” Frank says when he’s gone.

“Yeah, but he also hates red velvet cake, so clearly his logical decision making ability isn’t entirely credible.”

“I think his problem was not with red velvet cake as a whole, Mikey, but with the time you tried to bake one and you used salt instead of sugar,” the guy who is apparently called Ray says. 

“Fuck you, my baking skills are masterful.”

“I’m sure they are,” Pete says and Frank really does not understand him at all, not even kind of.

“Okay but how do I get him to not hate me?” Frank asks, not caring if he sounds selfish.

“Buy him a life-size cardboard cutout of David Bowie,” Mikey says, the look on his face so serious that Frank isn’t actually sure if he’s kidding or not.

“Okay, but how about the broke guy version of getting Gerard to like me?”

“Like you how?” Mikey asks, and Frank’s eyes bulge, because he doesn’t know how that sounded. He tries to repeat the words he’d said back in his head, but he can’t remember his own wording. He’s terrified that it sounded like he was asking for flirting tips. From the guy’s brother even! Technically he _is_ asking for flirting tips, but he doesn’t want that to be so obvious.

“I just mean, like, I don’t want him to hate me,” Frank says.

“Oh, then you’re on your own, I’ve been trying to figure out the secret to that for like sixteen years,” Mikey says.

“Seriously?” Frank asks, “Great.”

“Well you could try what I did,” Ray says, “Don’t ignore him for eight years.”

“Thanks,” Frank answers snappily, even though he knows that he probably deserved that. 

“So like, what would he even do with a cardboard cutout of David Bowie? Make out with it?” Pete asks, still stuck on that topic. “Because the problem with cardboard is that it doesn’t kiss back.” 

“You would know, wouldn’t you,” Brendon says.

“Shut up!” Pete says, hitting Brendon in the arm, and Frank actually thinks he’s blushing which has got to be a first. Pete has never blushed a single day in his entire life.

“You know, I think he’d just worship it like a deity,” Mikey says. 

Frank frowns, because honestly he’s thinking ‘same.’ He hates how every new thing he learns about the guy is making him want him more even though every new thing he learns brings him no closer to actually getting him. This is not going to be easy. But obviously it has to turn out if he’s going to marry the guy someday. Frank thinks. More like, Frank hopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a return to bribery, a free invisible pocket-sized elephant for anyone who comments.


	9. A Reprise of Frank Being An Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank is a true romantic. An idiot, yes, but a romantic all the same.

“I think that went rather well,” Frank says to Brendon after returning to the school twenty minutes after Gerard disappeared at lunch. “I mean, at least he talked to me.”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Why shouldn’t I care so much?”

“Touché,” Brendon nods, watching Frank put books into his bag. “So you going to creep on him next period?”

“What? I... how do you even know he’s in my next class?” Frank asks.

“You just told me so.”

“Damn it,” Frank groans, but he shakes his head and zips his backpack up, feeling the weight of it and dreading having to drag it across the school. He looks around the hall, unsure of what time it is, because the last thing he really needs is to be late for another class.

“Don’t freak him out too bad, okay?” Brendon says, “because, like, the last thing that we need is for our senior year to be spent dragging you away from embarrassing yourself. Why even bother trying to make friends now, we’ve only got like three months left? You should be spending your time trying to find a prom date instead of trying to get on the good side of a guy who hates you.”

Frank would very much like to tell him that he’s kind of aiming to get a prom date out of the guy who hates him, but he knows that that would be somewhat of a giveaway and his vocal chords wouldn’t support the words anyway.

“I gotta get to class, Bren,” Frank says, “and what I choose to do about friend making is none of your damn business. Also, prom is dumb.”

“Whatever you say,” Brendon shouts after him as Frank scurries along the hallway to his next class. Frank wouldn’t admit it to Brendon obviously, but he is hoping to find a way to sit next to Gerard, because what better way to talk to him than forced social interaction? 

It’s Frank’s lucky day because when he gets to the class, he finds the seat next to Gerard is empty and he grins evilly to himself before he occupies it. Gerard looks at him, doesn’t seem to process that it’s Frank, looks away, and then looks back with complete surprise.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” 

“Sitting.”

“No, not that.”

“Breathing.”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Gerard replies and looks away at the front of the room, even though the teacher isn’t even there yet.

“What? Breathe?”

“Yes.”

“Ouch,” Frank says, “That would mean I would be dead.”

“In a perfect world.”

“I honestly didn’t know you felt that way about me. So you, what, just want me dead or something?” Frank asks. “You know you could always just move if you don’t want to sit next to me.”

“Or _you_ could,” Gerard answers.

“Gerard, it’s you who has the problem here, not me. I don’t have any issue sitting next to you, so I have no need to move. Sitting here is not a crime. If you don’t like it, feel free to move, but I’m doing nothing wrong just by sitting down.”

Gerard wrinkles his nose, but he says nothing in response. Frank doesn’t know if that’s a bad thing or a good thing. But he doesn’t make any motion to stand up and move either, and that’s how Frank decides that it is definitely a good thing.

“Listen, I’m honestly sorry that you hate me so much, but, like, I don’t hate _you_.”

“I get that, and it’s annoying.”

“I’m sorry? Like, I don’t know what there is for me to say. I’m sorry that you feel that way and there’s nothing I can say or do to change the way you feel about me.”

“Whatever,” Gerard says.

“Okay, so like, I don’t care that you’re gay you know. I mean, I honestly don’t care, I’m not going to make fun of you for that, I’m not going to pick on you period, I’m not like that. Well, I mean, I guess in a matter of speaking, I do care that you’re gay, but it does not in any way affect or change my image of you, but I don’t want to demean you by saying that I don’t care, which would imply that it, you being gay, doesn’t matter, because it does matter, it just doesn’t matter in the way that I treat you. But my point is that I wouldn’t make fun of you for that or for any other reason. You make that assumption about me, but, honestly, there’s a difference between bullying and ignorance. And there’s a hell of a difference between ignoring and indifference too, because it’s not that I was ignoring you that past however many years, I just literally had no reason at all to need to know much about you, because we never really interacted with each other.”

Gerard is still refusing to look at him, his face determinedly eyeing the whiteboard at the front of the room like it holds some answer to the universe, and Frank sighs, because he really just wishes that he could take back the last eight years and have a go at doing this the right way. But he also doesn’t want that because, as much as he wants Gerard to fall in love with him, he definitely doesn’t want to go through middle school and three and a half years of high school again. Also he doesn’t want the trauma of puberty twice.

“Listen, if you want me to sit somewhere else, that’s fine, I guess,” Frank says, sadly, but he picks his backpack up from the side of the chair and starts to stand up when Gerard shrugs.

“I don’t care, sit there if you like,” Gerard says, but he doesn’t turn to look at Frank still, and he’s starting to wonder what he could do to get Gerard to make eye contact. He’d probably have to set the building on fire. 

“You sure?” Frank asks, when he puts his backpack down again.

“Yeah I guess. I don’t care, like I said.”

“Okay.”

Gerard’s friend, the one with the hair, Frank thinks his name was Ray, steps into the classroom not long before the bell rings, and he gives Gerard a long look that Frank can’t really dissect before he goes to sit in the opposite side of the room, away from them. Frank’s not sure what it says about him that he’s incapable of looking at the guys face, but really who could blame him when his hair is bigger than the Pacific Ocean.

“So like, is there any way on this earth for me to make you stop hating me?”

“I don’t know. What are you offering?”

“I, well nothing,” Frank replies.

“Well why should I forgive you if you literally give me no reason to do so?”

“Uh, out of the goodness of your heart?”

“The goodness of my heart, huh? You can do better,” Gerard says.

“I will buy you a cookie. Or two cookies. Or a small pony. Or a dinosaur.”

“What kind of dinosaur?”

“A rainbow dinosaur. A rainbow dinosaur that sings David Bowie songs,” Frank adds.

“If you can achieve that than I sure as hell would be your friend, but I don’t think you can,” Gerard responds, but Frank thinks he might be smiling a little. Frank thinks that he’s going to have to utilize Mikey as a source to figure out what Gerard likes. Then again, who doesn’t like David Bowie?

“Well is there anything that I can do that costs less than several million dollars? I mean, I’m assuming I’d have to hire a large slew of scientists to work out how to make a dinosaur, and then a bunch more to figure out how to make it rainbow colored, though I imagine we could just use spray paint or something, and that’ll all probably take a very long time, if it’s even possible, and if it is possible, we’ve all seen Jurassic park, it may not end well. But at least we’ll be going out with style because, come on, when you think about it, being taken out by a rainbow dinosaur is a hell of a way to go,” Frank says. “My point got derailed a bit there, I just wanted to ask what it is can I do that will make me less of a jackass that I don’t have to put a lot of money into?”

“Well,” Gerard says, and he makes a thinking face which makes Frank’s heart melt, because it’s super cute and he wants to make out with Gerard now, but he doesn’t do that. “Could you ask your friend to stop flirting with my brother? That was kind of extremely weird.”

“My friend to stop what?” Frank asks, confusedly. “Pete? Pete was not flirting. Pete’s straight. He wasn’t flirting. That’s just who Pete is.”

“Sure,” Gerard replies. Not sounding convinced. The teacher finally makes his way into the classroom, but he’s an old windbag of a man, who’s honestly mostly deaf, so you never really get in trouble with him unless you’re literally shouting. Besides, who gives a shit about Civics class anyway? 

“What? He actually is. Pete is just, like, a person who has a weird mannerism to him, but he’s straight, I promise,” Frank whispers, because, despite how oblivious the teacher is, the classroom still falls into a somewhat respectful lulling tone of murmurs as he starts to talk about whatever the hell he’s talking about that literally no one cares about. Literally no one gives a fuck about civics. Even though it’s probably the only actual class that you will ever need to take to get by in the real world, it’s honestly just easier to read the Wikipedia page then to listen to this guy talk in his low drawling slur.

“You can tell yourself that all you want, but you have no way to prove it do you,” Gerard says.

“So what are you saying, you just assume he’s gay because he’s friendly to people?”

“Maybe I’ve just got one hell of a gaydar,” he says, which sounds almost exactly like something Gee had said to Frank and he has a moment of panic followed by a moment of sheer disbelief.

“And d-do you?”

Gerard shrugs, “It’s okay. Not fantastic, but I get by.”

“So do you have any insight then?” Frank asks.

“On what?”

“Which of our classmates are totally bent.”

Gerard smirks, and then frowns like he disapproves of his own reaction. “Why should I tell you if I did know anything?”

“I’m not going to make fun of them or anything, seriously, I’m just curious, because, like, I have no skill in that regard whatsoever.”

Gerard purses his lips and looks around the room like he’s trying to determine if anyone is listening in on them, “Alright fine, but if you tell anyone I told you this I will hunt you down and pluck out your eyebrows one hair at a time. So you know that one guy who always brings his laptop to lunch and watches cartoons for no apparent reason?” 

“He’s gay?” Frank asks.

“No, but his girlfriend is.”

“Oh my god,” Frank replies, “how do you know that?”

“Honestly that one has nothing to do with intuition at all, I actually live next to her and saw her making out with that girl who smells like egg, you know the one, right.”

“Egg girl? Really?” Frank asks, “How did I never realize it... why does that make _sense_? Like you ever figure out a celebrity is gay and then you can’t believe you never knew, because there’s just something about them. Not in a mean way, just like, you can’t un-realize it.”

“I don’t know, it’s just the way the world is. It’s kind of obvious after you know, always is,” Gerard grins, and then he has this moment where it looks like he realizes who he’s talking to and his face reverts back to the one of pissed off that had been there before. Frank’s kind of proud of himself for getting to talk with him a little bit, even if it wasn’t much. 

Frank looks over at the teacher whose writing something on the whiteboard in his unintelligible handwriting, and Frank knows he should be taking notes, but he literally does not care at all. 

“You know we did interact with each other before yesterday.”

“We did?” Frank asks. “When?”

“Never mind.”

“What? You can’t just say something like that and then say never mind! That’s not how this works. You’ve gotta, like, finish your sentence.”

“If you don’t remember, then, really, I don’t want to talk to you about it.”

“Did I... did I say something shitty to you?” Frank asks.

Gerard just waves him off and looks at the board. He begins copying down the notes from the board and Frank just looks at him aghast, wondering what on earth he could’ve said to Gerard and not remembered it at all. He’s not _that_ forgetful. Maybe it was a long time ago. Like a really really long time ago. If it was sixth grade then there’s very little chance Frank is going to remember it because middle school was an embarrassing time for him, as it is for most people, and he’s done his best to block it out. 

“Look, I cannot apologize for doing something if I don’t know what it was that I did,” Frank says.

“Just forget I said anything, okay?”

“No!” Frank hisses, and he knows he’s being too pushy, but for the life of him, he cannot remember what it was that he could’ve said or done.

“Look, it wasn’t mean or anything. You weren’t a bitch to me, it just pisses me off that you honestly don’t remember talking to me ever. Like, it- it’s not a big deal, just forget about it.”

“Okay, well, if it was a long time ago, then I’m sorry that I don’t remember but it’s not just this one incident that I forgot about, like I’ve tried to forget a lot of things about middle school, it was an uncomfortable time for me. You know how it is, it’s not like I’m blanking on this one thing, it’s a rather large number of things that I have chosen to repress, because I really do not need to be reminded of the pimply, greasy, preteen loser that I was.”

“Fine then,” Gerard sighs, “whatever you say.”

“I... god, you wouldn’t understand,” Frank says. “It’s just, you may think I look down on you, or looked down on you, but I didn’t. It’s not about you, there’s no actual reason for you to think me not noticing you was about _you_ , that’s honestly a little egocentric, the whole matter is not that I didn’t notice any one individual, the fact is that I only noticed a few individuals at all. I can’t name half the people in this grade, and it’s not because I don’t care, it’s just that I never had a reason to have to learn them. If I were to interact with them, then yes, I would learn their names, but I never have to interact with a lot of people, so I don’t need that knowledge, it is not something that is required of me.”

“That’s your way of saying that you’re not rude to me, you’re rude to everybody,” Gerard says, and Frank almost outwardly groans, because he’s just not getting it. Frank is beginning to realize that Gerard is incredibly stubborn and set in his ways which is not ideal, and is going to end up getting in the way of things, but there’s nothing he can really do about any of this. He’s just got to keep running after Gerard, softening him up until he can actually come out with it and ask him the fuck out.

But Frank will absolutely ask him out someday and he will take Gerard anywhere he wants, and Frank, as unemployed and broke as he is, would still find a way to buy Gerard the world if he asked. Frank thinks he would be a good boyfriend, or even a great one, but he’s never really been given the opportunity. 

Frank has never _dated_ anyone. He has been informally attached to a couple females, but he has never actually dated someone, least of all never a boy, but he would be willing to make Gerard his first significant other. Hell, there’s literally no one else who he would even consider. Frank’s generally come to the conclusion that he doesn’t like any of the boys that go to his school, because they’re all gross, and they smell like they haven’t showered recently, and they wear the exact same clothes as each other. Every single one of them shops at sports stores and just buys the stupid ass shorts and those stupid ass T-shirts with stupid ass logos on them. Like who goes into a store and thinks, ‘yes, what I really need is a T-shirt that has the Nike logo on it. A shirt with a logo of a shoe brand on it. That’s what I fucking need, a shoe shirt.’

Now granted, Gerard does somewhat smell like he hasn’t taken a shower recently, and his hair certainly looks it, but at least he wears normal fucking clothes. His jeans are, at least right now too tight in the front though, and Frank’s elected to ignore that fact, because he’s wearing a Placebo shirt and that more than makes up for the fact that Frank wants to tear those pants off and do terribly dirty things to Gerard.

He doesn’t even know what it is about his dorky charm that’s got Frank so wild about everything about him, he just knows that it’s endearing. Frank’s not sure he really has a type. He’s not really used to himself enough to know what his type would be, other than the fact that he’s not a fan of blondes, but that’s all he knows about his own preference, so he’s not sure if Gerard is his type or if he’s honestly only attracted to him because of the whole weird situation with Gee.

Frank, who is usually a rational human being, has all but fucking given a Presidential address that he thinks Gee is the same person as Gerard. He knows it’s the stupid conclusion to come to, he knows it’s impossible, he knows there’s got to be a more logical solution than this, but he’s a dreamer, and somewhat of a romantic and he’s got his heart set on Gerard.

He just can’t put his finger on what it is about the guy that makes Frank want to cuddle with him and watch Disney movies and throw popcorn at him while they’re wrapped up in a blanket, but whenever he used to have that fantasy about him and his future boyfriend, he would never see a face in that other person. He would just sort of see the vague outline of a human, someone generic, he never saw anyone, not a celebrity or someone he knew, but now, all he sees is Gerard. He can’t even get rid of that face now. It’s just Gerard. He sees Gerard’s face clear as day, and there is absolutely nothing he can do to get rid of that image in his head. He sees Gerard, back against Frank’s chest with his head pressed against Frank’s shoulder. He sees the way that the light changes on his face as it’s reflected from the TV, and he can see the way that it distorts his features ever so slightly with every new angle that the shadows create. And it’s not Gee, it’s Gerard. He sees Gerard. Not the older version of him, but the one that is now sitting beside him, only a few inches away. Frank can almost even feel Gerard’s warmth, the way it feels with him pressed up against him, making him feel like in his arms he’s got the entire world, and if he were in that scene with Gerard, he would have exactly that, the world. He would have the whole world and more.

But it’s a far off dream. They’re both going to college next year, probably going to separate parts of the country, if not the world. Frank knows the odds aren’t high that he’ll ever see Gerard again after high school, but he wants to believe that he will. He wants to believe that Gee is actually future Gerard, and that will to believe it is what makes it so easy to accept, because he wants that.

And it’s literally been only five days. He met Gee on Thursday night, it was almost midnight at the time so it’s probably more accurate to say that it’s been only four, but it has been so little time, but to Frank, it’s like he’s invested entire years to this. It feels like he’s had a crush on this dumb dorky boy sitting next to him for years, not hours. Because, really, at this point, Frank has only known his fucking name for about a day. He knows that that’s not enough time to form such a strong opinion, but he simply cannot explain it.

There is just this supernatural energy drawing him towards Gerard and he is helpless to drown it out. He is incapable of stopping his mind from wandering, and incapable of pushing down the thoughts inside his head that he _wants_ Gerard.

It’s not natural, Frank is positive of it. Something is going on here that is not just a hormonal urge, because what happened Thursday night is not something that Frank would have done in a million years. He wouldn’t have slept with a guy he didn’t know who he’d met at a bar. He wouldn’t have done that. That wasn’t him. Yet, he was in complete and utter control of himself the whole time and it had felt right. It was the right thing to do, it was what needed to be done, and he wanted every second of it. He wanted Gee, in a way that he’d never experienced and he had been drawn in by some force that, looking back on it now, doesn’t even seem possible.

The same force is drawing him into Gerard now, he wants, needs, and knows that what should be done is to chase after Gerard. He absolutely has to, and he sure as hell isn’t going to go without a fight because there is something that he simply cannot put into words that makes him yearn for Gerard in a way that he has never wanted anything in his life. 

It’s kind of like Frank can see into the future, because he himself knows that all he needs is Gerard, and he’s got everything else made. He doesn’t care about school, or money, or anything, and he knows how fucking stupid that is, because everyone feels that way about their high school sweetheart. Frank’s heard a thousand different stories of people wanting to go to the same college as their boyfriend or girlfriend because they’re so in love, and Frank thinks it’s annoying and cliché, just like everyone else. He thinks those people are making decisions from their pants rather than their brain, and he’s always considered that sort of thing to be a no brainer.

Whenever that’s a plot point, Frank absolutely agrees with the character who decides to go to the school they want rather than to the school their ‘love of their life’ goes to, because it’s the logical choice to make. Frank knows all those things, and hell, he’s already decided where he’s going to school, but right now, all that he can think in the world is that he doesn’t give a flying fuck about college at all. He literally couldn’t care less, because his head is in the clouds.

And yet he still insists to himself that it’s some magical force that’s pulling him in. It’s some invisible magnetism between him and Gerard. It’s been there all this time, he just never noticed it before now.

Frank feels himself almost forcefully pulled out of his reverie by the sound of a book slamming in front of him and he looks up to see that everyone around him is packing up their stuff. He doesn’t know when that happened. He had thought that it was only a few minutes into class, he’s literally astounded that almost an hour has passed where he was stuck in his own thoughts.

Frank, who’s normally so calm and collected, is more disorganized than ever. By the time he’s started to pull his stuff together, Gerard is already leaving the classroom, not looking back at him. Frank hurries to gather his things, but he knows it’s too late to catch up to Gerard now.

He’s got more things strewn across the table then he’d realized. He doesn’t even know why he pulled out his science textbook in the first place, or remember doing so, but it’s his science book, it’s got his name on it, so presumably he must have. There’s also a few pencils and a couple of his notebooks. He honestly doesn’t remember grabbing any of this stuff, but he’s not been having the most normal week so it doesn’t exactly surprise him that he’d turn on lifeless Frank mode without realizing it.

Frank is in the middle of stowing his notebook into his backpack when it decides to just slip out of his hand altogether and onto the floor. He groans, and leans down to pick it up, and he glances at the page it had landed on where he sees a note in Pete’s handwriting, because evidently he has no faith in Frank whatsoever, that they have a book report due on Friday that Frank has conveniently completely forgotten about. He hasn’t even read the fucking book yet. Frank groans, scribbles a note to himself on his hand and then tosses the rest of his shit into his bag, hurrying out the door.

As he’d expected, Gerard’s nowhere to be seen which is a bummer, but he didn’t really think Gerard was going to linger conveniently so that Frank could follow him. He sighs, and makes his way resignedly to his next class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment maybe? Or don't, no pressure, just thank you for reading this story at all.


	10. On the Topic of Mikey's Eyebrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank finds a letter.

Frank collapses onto his bed as soon as he gets home and he has a panging fear of the book he now has to try to read in one night so that he has enough time to write an essay on it. He makes a whining sound before he actually pulls himself up, looks around his room and tries to find where he put the book. Frank’s mostly just glad that it’s not some massive book like War and Peace, but to be fair, he doesn’t want to be reading Slaughterhouse-Five either. Frank finds anything and everything to do with Vonnegut somewhat perverse and creepy. And when it’s coming from someone who’s seen several hundred horror movies, you know you’ve done a successful job at writing a freaky-ass book. 

He sees the book wedged under his desk chair, where he put it because the chair wobbled considerably and it was the perfect size to keep it still. Frank makes a groaning sound, one that he’s sure even his mother downstairs can hear, and he stands up sulkily. He’s probably going to end up just reading the SparkNotes and bullshitting the everloving fuck out of this report. He won’t get anything higher than a C, but what does one C matter in the grand scheme of things? Literally nothing at all whatsoever. 

Frank picks up the book, after pushing the chair to the side and he scowls at it, skimming the back cover and then riffling through the pages quickly. It’s at this point that a piece of notebook paper falls out and lands on the floor. Frank looks down at it, assumes that it’s some bookmark or other that the person who last had the book forgot there, and he leans down to pick it up. And that’s when he realizes that there’s words on the lines of the paper, which he now realizes is a couple sheets, and it’s addressed to him.

The writing is in pencil, particularly messy, in somewhat large print, but readable all the same. Each sheet of lined paper, three in total, is double sided.

Frank doesn’t know what to think as he looks at the top page, because Frank is a common name, it isn’t necessarily addressed to him, but he starts to read what it says anyway.

Dear Frank,

Okay so, wow, okay, jeez. First things first, an introduction is in order. I know you and you know me, it’s just the handwriting that maybe you’re not familiar with quite yet, but it’s me, Gerard. If my assumptions were correct, and they probably are in all likelihood, you’re reading this about three, maybe four days after we first met. I, well, this is going to be a complicated letter to write for me, because, well, you’ll see. See, I knew you wouldn’t start reading this book until a few days before your report on it is due, which, on that note I have to say, I’m really unimpressed Frank, wow, you put it off for this long, jeez, some things never change. Second, I had to write this letter, because, without it, you’d never have figured any of this out. 

Basically, and I’m just going to be perfectly blunt about this and then explain a little further afterward, but basically, I, well, I time traveled. Okay, before you start thinking “whoa he’s fucking crazy”, let me explain a little more. What happened was, as far as, uh, I was about to say “as far as Frank and I have figured out” but then I realized, you are Frank. I know that. I meant future Frank. Future you, the guy I’m married to. As far as we’ve figured out, the reason I had to time travel backwards is because otherwise you would never have looked twice at me. I don’t even really blame you, I know how awkward I was back then, I was such a ditz, I wouldn’t have wanted to talk to me either, so I’m not angry about that. Well, a little bit, but I’ll get over it someday I assume. Ha, maybe another future me is going to travel back in time to tell me that I’m never going to be fully over the fact that you ignored me. Fuck, let’s hope not, this is already confusing enough. 

Sorry, I’m digressing. I’m supposed to explain what’s going to happen here to make sure that you know what to do. First of all, I’m just going to say this now before I forget, don’t even bother trying to propose to me at that stupid fucking duck pond near our house, because you got goose shit on your shoes and it really made the whole ‘will you marry me’ thing much less romantic. Second of all, there’s some things that are really important for you to know, one of those being that you need to make sure Mikey stays home sick on Earth Day because that’s the day that he burned his eyebrows off in chemistry. It was really amusing, but he still grumbles about it at Thanksgiving, so I figure I’ll do him a solid and make sure it doesn’t happen. 

Now, back to the important stuff. The most important thing is that you make sure that we end up together. You and I. I will fucking kill you if we don’t, because that would piss me the fuck off. Okay, second, as far as we’ve been able to tell, you have a flexible timeline, and what I mean to say is that I do exist, but I’m never going to exist quite the same way in your future. Okay, that’s confusing, but I’ll give you an example. You can change some small parts of your future, which will remain unchanged in my present. If you stop me from ever smoking, I won’t be a smoker in your timeline, but I’m still gonna be one in my timeline. Technically, our paths will never cross again after the time we spent together. What this doesn’t mean is that you’ll fuck it up, because I believe that there’s a broad spectrum of things that can’t be changed, can’t ever be altered. You and I will still end up together, I’m pretty sure, but don’t quote me on that, because that’s an important detail, while smaller ones are more malleable. Our future should stay the same, but I can’t guarantee that, so don’t be too hell-bent on changing the future, just to see what will happen. Just play it cool and hope for the best. 

I’ve never told you this, but I guess you already know, because some other past Gerard wrote this letter and wrote down these words, but, I’ve liked you since seventh grade. I think this is a good place to confess that because I think it’ll get you to work harder for me if you don’t necessarily want to right now. The Frank I know has probably read these words before because he went through the same shit you’re going through now, so, I guess that’s kind of cool when you think about it. Really though, yeah, I’ve had a crush on you since about seventh grade. We were in Public Speaking class together, I don’t know if you remember that. I don’t know if you remember much of anything about me from middle school, but we sat at the same table for a couple of weeks in that class, and our teacher had us write these speeches about one of our classmates, and she picked the partners so you and I got paired and we had to write a speech about each other. It was really short, and you weren’t really into it, but that’s about when I started to like you. When I interviewed you, you were like completely ignoring me, you thought I was uncool, and geeky or something. I should’ve hated you, because you were just really brief and short with me, you barely even put any effort into that speech, but I was little and naive and you were kinda cute. 

I have a crush on you now though too. The Gerard that you know, he likes you. I really liked you. I didn’t know how to handle talking to you. I tried to avoid eye contact at all times with you, you just gave me such butterflies. I knew it was stupid too, because you were popular, you had lots of friends, you got good grades, you were just the coolest guy, and I was a dork who played Dungeons and Dragons and read comics. You were just so out of my league. And then you started talking to me, and it was right after I guess you met future me because the way you reacted at first, I thought you were insane. Like, don’t get me wrong, you came up to me that day at lunch and I was so jittery, so nervous and scared and happy that you noticed me, but you were acting mental. You remember, I’m sure, ‘cause for you that was like a day or two ago, you were weird! But I got all hot and bothered, and scared, and I just could not handle how much I liked you. Mikey made fun of me after that, because that was when he figured out that the Frank I had a crush on was you. He knew I liked a guy called Frank, but he didn’t know that the guy called Frank was you. But then you started to follow me around a little and I was so flustered and confused. I thought you were playing a prank on me or something, lost a bet, but you weren’t. You liked me. It was so thrilling. No one had ever paid any attention to me and then you came along, and god... you were so nice. Clueless, you were completely clueless and helpless, but you were good. You still are, you’re a good person. 

I just want to tell you that you need to hang in there, fight for me if you have to. Take me to prom, it was the best night of my life. People made fun of us, I remember that, but not everyone. A lot of people were really supportive. My brother, Ray, Brendon, Pete, and a bunch of girls who wanted to use us as accessories which was creepy, but whatever. Oh by the way, I don’t think you’ve come out yet, but I just want to tell you that you don’t need to be afraid of anyone’s reactions. Like, no one you care about is going to like you any less because of that, you can trust me. I would know. I get that it’s a hard thing to address, because I remember coming out, way before you, the middle of eighth grade, and it was scary, but it felt better ultimately to not be afraid anymore. So just hang in there, it’ll be alright. 

I’m not sure what else there is for me to say. I hid a few pictures of us, me and you, or future you, the you that I am currently with who is not you you because you’re past Frank and I’m talking about future Frank... and I got off track. I hid some pictures of us in another place that I knew you wouldn’t discover until I told you about it, in that bible that your mom makes you keep on your night stand. So like, if you don’t believe me than there’s those, which I figured you would need because I wouldn’t believe me either. Although you are the one who made me watch a Back to the Future marathon and then started citing scientific research about time travel being perfectly plausible just really really really unlikely. That was a perfect date I liked that, you bought pizza and we discovered that it is impossible to eat pizza seductively if you put extra sauce on the pizza, because the cheese just slides off and hits you in the face. 

Yeah, digressing again, I tend to do that, I have a lot of things to say and there’s never enough time to say it. I’m probably the only person who talks more than you do Frank. So yeah, like I don’t have any important updates to bring you from the future, not really. The Pop Tart flavors become more exciting, that’s a thing. Uh, Pete’s totally in love with my brother, which is fine I guess, but he’s definitely the weirdest brother in law a guy could have, because he’s literally a grown man and he dyed his hair pink last month, what a fucking weirdo. Contrary to every young adult fiction story that exists, the future is not actually a dystopian society with only white people, so that’s good. I would tell you about Leonardo Dicaprio’s Oscar status but I think I should just keep that a secret because you need a few surprises for the future. 

Also, you’re a cutie and I love you.

Love, 

Gerard (future Gerard, that is) 

P.S. I realized the emotional breakdown that reading this letter would have, so on your computer, in the folder marked “English” you will find the book report for Slaughterhouse-Five that you may turn in, so you may now freak the fuck out without having to worry about writing an essay! You’re welcome. 

Frank’s pretty much had it with weird things going on in his life at this point so finding this letter isn’t even that much of a surprise to him. That doesn’t change the weird glowing pride he feels in his chest at the fact that he was spot on, as well as the unapologetic terror he feels at the fact that he was right all along.

He quickly walks over to his nightstand, pulls said bible that his mother makes him keep there from its drawer, and shakes it out to see two photos drop out of the pages. 

When he picks them up, he’s kind of disappointed to find that they’re not moving, because he had such high hopes for the future and moving photographs, or maybe he’s just read Harry Potter too many times, but it’s a bit of a letdown all the same. 

But then his heart stops when he realizes what it actually is that he’s looking at, because that’s Gee, and that person next to Gee is... him. That’s Frank’s face, he’s positive of it, but he’s older. He knows that’s the logical conclusion to be drawn, because, obviously he’s older. If the picture hasn’t been taken yet then he is obviously going to be older in it.

This is probably just some elaborate prank and the picture is photoshopped, and he knows that, but it doesn’t change the fact that he believes it’s a real picture. It looks real. He wants it to be real.

He’s looking at a picture of himself with his arm around Gee or Gerard, and it’s different to either of the Gee’s or Gerard’s that he knows, because it’s older than Gerard, but younger than Gee. Frank’s brain is going to turn to jelly with all of this information that he’s being forced to accept. How on earth can this picture be real? He feels as though it has to be, because it’d be some damn good photoshop to pull this off, though he supposes it’s possible. He thinks it must be real though. The detail is uncanny. Gerard’s grin is wide and his tiny teeth are so real that it can’t be fake. Frank’s not an expert on his own face, but he’s pretty sure that that’s him, somehow it must be what he looks like. 

He looks at the second picture and his heart swells a little bit, because that’s unmistakably a wedding photo. Like, he’s wearing a suit, and so is Gerard and on either of their sides there’s Pete making bunny ears over Mikey’s head, as well as Brendon, Ray, and a few people that Frank doesn’t know. He’s assuming that they’re people he’s going to meet someday, there’s three in total. And the Frank in the picture is looking directly at him, huge grin plastered on his face, and he can’t believe that this is a photo that he is now holding. He flips the picture over, hoping that there might be some writing there, and he sees only the date and then some scribbling in almost completely undecipherable print. He thinks that the writing is a list because he sees what looks like his name, but the only thing he makes out from the text about the people he doesn’t recognize is that one of their names starts with a P and another’s ends in an S.

The only thought going through his head, really, is that Gerard, in both pictures, is fucking beautiful. Like, Frank is sure that he’s the prettiest guy that has ever walked this planet, or maybe he only thinks that because he’s hopelessly caught in the romantic idealism of all of this. It’s just too great a story for Frank to think it’s untrue. It’s too fantastical and too beautiful for him to be the skeptic of it he should be. Besides, this would take a hell of a lot of skill to photoshop, because everyone in the photo looks older, but still the same. They’re still the same person that he knows, and he can actually see a few years added onto all of them. Like, for example, Brendon has a different haircut, Gerard’s hair is a shorter version of the way it is now, Frank looks like he’s had at least a dozen different hairstyles since the time that this photo was taken, which, according to the date on the back, is five years from now.

So that would mean that he and Gerard got married just after college. Going off of what Gerard said, they’ve been together for eight years, almost nine. If this photo was taken five years into the future, and Gerard was 27 when Frank met him the other day, then the addition should all match up to mean that he has to start dating Gerard sometime in the next few months. And if Frank takes him to prom than that further backs that up.

There’s literally so many things to digest about all of this information. He’s married to Gerard, Pete dyed his hair pink, they live next to a duck pond, Pete marries Mikey, Frank doesn’t have to worry about bad reactions to coming out, Pete was a groomsmen at their wedding, Gerard has a crush on him right now at this very moment, Pete is still literally seven years old even five years from now, and Mikey burned his eyebrows off. There’s just a lot of things that he needs to let sink in. What new Pop Tart flavors are there in the future? _Gerard has a fucking crush on him_.

Frank, because he has his priorities in order, walks over to his computer, and goes to the folder Gerard told him to, finds the essay, and he opens it to find that it’s an actual, real essay. When he realizes that, it gives him the freedom to go back to his bed, crash into the bundle of blankets and have a minor existential crisis about the logistics of this fucked up timeline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment?


	11. Petition to Get the Word "Woo" Banned From the Dictionary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think that my hate for the word woo is made all the more difficult with how dumb all the synonyms of it are as well.

“Okay, so you ever wonder who in our grade has a crush on you?” Frank asks.

“No, because I know that the answer is everyone,” Brendon replies.

“And you wonder why I tell you that you have an ego the size of Mount Everest.”

“Is it really an ego though, if it’s completely true?” Brendon asks.

“Yes,” Pete nods.

“The answer is still everybody though, okay. I mean look at me, I’m gorgeous,” Brendon says, and surely, if he had hair long enough, he would do a hair flip of some variety to help prove his point.

“You just keep telling yourself that.”

“My point is that, if you did happen to know with certainty that someone has a crush on you, would you tell them that you know?” Frank asks.

“What? Absolutely not!” Pete says, his mouth open widely like the mere thought of it astounds him. “Who is it that you think has a crush on you? Is she pretty?”

“I... why should I tell you, and yes, she is extraordinarily pretty,” Frank says. 

“Well I don’t see why you need to tell her that you know she has a crush on you, when you could just as easily ask her out, and save yourself on the awkward. You need to find a prom date, Frank, you’ve only got a month and a half left.”

“What? No, I’ve got two months left.”

“No, you have a month and a half, because you’ve gotta ask them at least two weeks before,” Pete says, “and you gotta make a big grand gesture of it too, buy a cake, get a skywriter, hire a pony, blow up some balloons, write a song, book a rocket to take you to outer space, and most importantly, find some backup dancers.”

“Or I could just ask,” Frank offers.

“Nope, big gesture. Chicks dig grand gestures.”

Frank shakes his head, “Well it’s not really that easy anyway. I can’t tell you what makes it so difficult, it just is. If you knew who it was that had a crush on me you’d understand how complicated it was.”

“Why? Is it a teacher?” Pete asks, with this face like he’s hearing the latest celebrity gossip.

“No!” Frank says quickly.

“Good. Oh, are they dating someone else?” Pete asks.

“Not that I know of,” Frank replies, but then curses to himself because that would have been a good excuse. 

He’s known that Gerard has had a crush on him for all of two days and he hasn’t been able to do anything about making him own up to it. The first day after reading the letter and he’d cozied up to Gerard about as well as he could, but failed to get anything out of him. He barely even talked to Frank at all. He sat with them at lunch again, and still nothing. Yesterday was about as fruitful as the day before it. Frank got him to smile during class for a few seconds before it turned into that blank face he tries to maintain whenever he’s talking to Frank. Gerard is a stubborn guy, Frank will give him that much. 

At least he knows now why he’s so reluctant to admit to anything though. Gee’s letter made it pretty clear that Gerard really is just angry about that whole speech thing and ignoring him, and he feels kind of extremely awful about it. He wants to take that back and have a history where he was best friends with Gerard, but he can’t do that. Time isn’t that kind, and this whole wacky business won’t allow him the chance to go back in time to change things either.

Now it’s Friday morning, and Frank hasn’t seen Gerard yet, because they’re standing in front of the school, waiting for the doors to open, but Gerard is nowhere in sight. If Frank has made any progress though it’s that he’s gotten closer to Mikey which is a good thing. Pete sure has too.

Frank can’t even believe he didn’t notice it before, but wow, yeah, Pete really is flirting with Mikey. Gerard was completely right when he said that in class, and if it weren’t for that letter, Frank would never have noticed it. But he’s like completely tripping over himself whenever he talks to Mikey, which is weird, because seriously, Mikey’s two grades younger than him, and a gigantic fucking dork, and he’s basically just a more sarcastic, less rude version of Gerard with a minor obsession with Billy Corgan. And if you consider how sarcastic Gerard is then the fact that Mikey is even more so is astounding beyond words.

But the fact that Pete’s so transparently obvious about his flirting with Mikey makes Frank wonder how obvious his own interactions with Gerard are. Then again he’s come to the conclusion that everyone around him has straight goggles which just means that everyone’s brain is so completely wired to assuming the state of widespread heteronormativity that they are incapable of comprehending when someone’s blatantly bent as fuck.

Besides, Gee’s letter said that he thought Frank was playing some sort of joke on him, so that’s probably why he hasn’t caught on to it yet. The worrying thing is the fact that someone might catch onto him, and he’ll be found out. Frank is petrified that it’s going to be the latest school gossip, because if he’s going to be the gay guy, he wants it to be on his own terms. He wants to come out, not be outed. There’s a huge difference.

The bell rings, and Frank looks up to see Pete and Brendon are still talking and he must’ve tuned out, because he doesn’t know how the topic steered around to The Ghostbusters, but evidently it has.

Frank neglects to participate, and he manages to slip away from them when they turn one way and he goes the other. He has always rather hated the fact that his locker is literally in the middle of nowhere when the other two have lockers across from each other. But sometimes it’s kind of liberating to not have to hear them have lengthy discussions about the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. 

“Hey Frank,” someone says behind him and he’s caught off guard when he turns to see Mikey walking over to him, alone, no Gerard in sight.

“Yes?” 

“We need to talk.”

“Oh that’s never a good thing to hear,” Frank replies, walking just the slightest bit faster in an attempt to get rid of him.

“Yeah, it’s about Gerard.”

“What about him?” Frank asks hesitantly, but it’s almost like he can read Mikey’s mind with what he knows is coming.

“You like him.”

“Shhhhhh,” Frank hisses at him, looking around even though the hall way is so full of people talking that the chances of anyone overhearing them are slim to none. He’s still overly wary and looks over his shoulder three times before looking back at Mikey.

“Oh, grow up,” Mikey says, brushing off his behavior. 

“How did you even fucking know that? What is it with you Way’s do you have built in gaydars?” 

“Yes,” Mikey says, completely serious. Frank doesn’t like the fact that he’s nearly five inches taller than him, that’s something that bothers him a lot. He’s used to people being taller than him, of course he is, but it’s the fact that Mikey's also marginally younger than him that makes it the most annoying. 

“Could you maybe not say it out loud then?” Frank asks, because seriously, this is the third time a Way has decided someone was gay. First it was Gee who was, yes, Gerard, but it was still weird that he knew Frank was gay, and then it was Gerard with Pete which is evidently true, and now Mikey’s figured him out. It could be worse though, Frank’s not sure what it is about Mikey but he seems rather trustworthy. The kind of guy you could trust with the location of buried treasure. Or at least the kind of guy you can trust to ask if you’ve got something in your teeth. 

“Please, I’m not out buying advertising space to broadcast it, I just wanted you to know that I know.”

“And what’s the purpose of telling me that you know?” Frank asks.

“Just thought I could help, because you’re not getting very far, are you?” Mikey says.

“You cannot be serious. You want to give me tips on how to...” Frank looks around and then whispers, “woo your brother.” 

“Absolutely not. Woo is a dumb word.”

“Okay yeah, but saying ‘seduce’ sounds much more serious, doesn’t it? It sounds more like a porno than it does anything else.” 

“You just watch too much porn,” Mikey responds.

“Or maybe you don’t watch enough. What am I saying, you’re seven years old.”

“I am not!” Mikey replies. 

“You could’ve fooled me.”

“Do you really want to mess with me, I know you’re secret,” Mikey warns him.

“What? No! Fuck, I was kidding! Jeez, please do not-”

“You have no idea how to take a joke do you?”

“What? Yes, I do, but jokes are meant to be funny, that was not funny. Please, just don’t tell, okay? And also, like, what tips do you have for me?” Frank asks, voice full of trepidation.

“I won’t say, of course I’m not going to, that’s your secret to tell, I don’t have the right to it. But as far as winning over Gerard goes, first of all, you need to stop trying to defend yourself. Like, that’s not going to get you anywhere. You ignored him for a bunch of years, don’t try to justify it. Everyone always tries to justify those things, don’t do that. You will get farther if you just honestly say you fucked up, and you’re sorry. That’s way cleaner, it sounds better and it’ll get you a hell of a lot further,” Mikey says.

“Right,” Frank says, nodding. He’s not sure he agrees with that, because he really does think that a lot of Gerard’s hate is unwarranted, but Mikey knows him way better than Frank does. He really should listen to him.

“Okay, next, conveniently, his birthday is in just a few weeks.”

“Wait, seriously?” Frank asks.

“Yes,” Mikey says, “and I was going to get him tickets to this one concert, but it looks like you need to get on his good side more than I do. Take him to the concert then, okay?” 

“Wait, you’re being serious?” Frank asks, “Like really? ‘Cause this is a huge scoop for me, I might get him to stop wanting to tear my head off if you let me actually do this.”

“Why on earth would I say it and not be serious? Like, yes, take him to the concert, his birthday is the ninth, he will love you and I can promise you that, okay?” Mikey says.

“You are the best person ever.”

“I know,” Mikey says, “give me your phone, I’ll text you the details and everything, okay?”

“Right, yeah,” Frank says, stopping when they reach his locker. He grabs his phone from his pocket and hands it to Mikey. While he’s busy messing with it, Frank gets his locker open and grabs his books. Mikey hands it back a moment later, and then nods.

“My other tips include talking about Star Wars as much as possible, he’s in love with Morrissey, do with that information what you will, he’s ticklish under the chin, I know that because he used to sit on me when we were kids and that was how I got him off, and also, coffee is the key to his heart.”

“Wow,” Frank says, getting a feeling in his stomach like someone just gave him a cheat sheet for a huge test. “Okay, but the last one is true of everybody, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so, but it’s still a good thing to know.”

“Thank you very much, man. I appreciate it. But once again, if you tell anyone of this conversation or about my... well, I will rip your tongue out and feed it to you.”

“What a kind thing to say to someone who’s trying to help you,” Mikey notes.

“I’m just making sure we’re on the same level, okay?” Frank asks, “But I do really appreciate you helping me out.”

“No problem. The only way he’s not going to end up an eternal bachelor is if I meddle with every single aspect of his life anyway, and you seem okay, so I might as well.”

“That makes me feel well special. And do you need tips on Pete then?” Frank asks. “Wait fuck.”

“What?”

“What?” Frank asks, hoping if he repeats it he’ll be able to wipe Mikey’s mind of what he just said.

“What about Pete?”

“Nothing about Pete. Who’s Pete? I have no idea to what you’re referring to.” 

“No, you just said-”

“I have to go to class!” Frank shouts, and he’s running off with nothing more than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment if you hate the word woo.


	12. Gizmo vs. Stitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Completely unrelated to this chapter, I consider Mark Hoppus to be my mother, so happy belated mothers day to him.

“Hey Gerard,” Frank says, making Gerard jump as he sits down next to him. They’re conveniently the only two to have sat down by the tree at lunch so far, and Frank may have planned that accordingly. He may or may not have stolen Pete’s lunch so that he would look for it for ten minutes. This is what happens when you give away your locker combination so freely. 

“Yes, Frank, what do you want now?”

“I think we’ve established that I don’t want anything from you,” Frank says, “I’m just sitting here. I have to eat lunch too.”

“Yeah, but you could sit anywhere else. Any of the hundreds of places that don’t happen to be near me. Like over there, or in a volcano, or literally anywhere else.”

“Yeah, but I want to sit here.”

“Fine,” Gerard says, stabbing his juice box with a straw and making it spill over his hand. Frank would like to comment on the fact that he has a juice box in the first place, but he decides against it. There’s no reason for why he needs to make fun of Gerard drinking from a juice box, he’s actually a little bit jealous.

“So, I just wanted to, like, apologize.”

“Fuck. Again? That’s the twenty third time you’ve apologized to me.”

“You’ve been keeping track?” Frank asks.

“Yes! And if I’d made it into a drinking game, I’d have needed my stomach pumped two days ago.” 

“Well, like, sorry again then. Okay, I just like, I think I should keep saying it until you understand that I mean it.”

“You apologizing does not mean I am obligated to accept it.”

“I know, but like, I am sorry anyway.” Gerard mimes taking a shot, and Frank refrains from rolling his eyes. “Well, listen, I don’t want to keep trying to defend my actions over the past years, so I’m just going to say sorry and be done with that. I fucked up and I know I did, and I’m sorry, you have every right to be mad, but I sincerely apologize.”

“So fucking hammered that I can’t remember who the president is,” Gerard says.

“Yeah I did say it a lot in that sentence didn’t I. Sorry. Shit!”

Gerard snorts, but then pretends he didn’t and he looks past Frank’s shoulder at the flag pole by the front doors.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, “thank you for not trying to make an excuse.”

Frank smiles, and makes a mental note to thank Mikey, because his first piece of advice has given him the most polite reaction he’s gotten out of Gerard yet.

Not a minute later, a disgruntled looking Pete plops down on the patch of grass next to Frank with Brendon not far behind him.

“So I lost my lunch,” Pete says dramatically. His flailing arms and melodramatic voice would not be ill-suited for a Shakespearean drama. 

“No you didn’t,” Frank shrugs, “I stole it.”

Frank grabs the paper bag that he’d grabbed from Pete’s locker and throws it at him, which makes Pete grumble to himself and flip Frank off.

“What did you do that for?”

“The other day when we were over at your house, your mom had made brownies, wanted to see if you had any left,” Frank shrugs, which isn’t entirely a lie.

“Well the joke’s on you then,” Pete says, “because I am a bottomless pit when it comes to baked goods.”

“I know,” Frank growls, “but I am just too full of hope.”

“Your mom does make good brownies,” Brendon says, looking off as if he’s daydreaming. Pete stares at him with a confounded expression on his face before hitting him over the head. “Ow. What’d I say?”

“Nothing, you just look stupid.”

“What else is new?” Frank responds, watching as Mikey walks over and sits down, conveniently in the spot next to Pete, but Frank doesn’t say anything about it. Not his business, but he is going to spy on those two like a motherfucker.

Mikey says a quick hello to Frank, and completely ignores both Brendon and Gerard as he starts talking to Pete. Frank would swear that he and Gerard have this moment of eye contact where they read each other’s minds because he can literally almost _hear_ the rolling of Gerard’s eyes as he looks away and smiles to himself sheepishly. It’s literally so obvious that they might as well hire a man with a bullhorn to announce it to the entire student population that Pete has a gigantic crush on Gerard Way’s younger brother.

“And now I suddenly feel like a fifth wheel,” Brendon says, “What a shame.”

“How can you be a fifth wheel when Gerard ignores me?” Frank asks him.

“Because you spend the entire time trying to talk to him. I don’t see what friendship you’re trying to create that requires you to be ignored the entire time, but it’s your life. I’m just going to sit here and throw breadcrumbs at the football team,” Brendon says, spying a group of guys in Letterman jackets who are sitting not too far from them.

“You have fun with that,” Frank says, sighing, and barely even noticing when the last of their small group, Ray, sits down. Frank’s definitely noticed the complete irony that Gerard thinks he’s popular when they literally have the same number of friends. Frank only ever talks to Brendon and Pete, he literally has almost no other friends. He’s got acquaintances, people he gets along with, that is most people, really, but he doesn’t have any actual friends other than the two guys whose lives revolve around insulting each other as much as it is physically possible. If Frank had a nickel for every time Brendon or Pete threatened to push him off of a building he would at least have enough to buy himself a Venti from Starbucks.

“Does anyone have any carrots?” Brendon asks, “I don’t think the breadcrumbs are even big enough for them to notice.”

“I can offer you a raisin,” Ray says.

“Ha, _Ray_ sin,” Frank says to himself, simultaneously disappointed and proud of his bad joke.

“You really are seven years old,” Brendon says, shaking his head as he takes the small carton of raisins and begins throwing them at the guys behind them, which is kind of a redundant thing to say to someone when you’re throwing food at people.

“Okay, so which one of us is throwing dried fruit at jocks?” Frank asks.

“Yeah, but to be fair, what’s a better use of raisins,” Gerard says, “Raisins are Satan’s work.”

“Preach it,” Frank agrees.

“I happen to enjoy raisins,” Pete mumbles.

“You are a minion of Satan and must be destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom,” Frank says.

“That’s the weirdest threat I’ve ever heard.”

Gerard nods, “Okay, but it’s a fair enough threat given what you said.”

“All I said is that I like raisins!” Pete groans.

“Don’t listen to them Pete, there’s nothing wrong with raisins,” Mikey says. That figures. They’re laying it on pretty thick if you ask him.

“Anyway,” Ray says, shaking his head at the stupid conversation, though it’s not like it’s as bad as that one about sheep the other day. And the debate over which Hogwarts house Pete would be in. And that other debate on who would be the best poker player in the world of Narnia. And that other conversation about who would win in a fight to the death, Gizmo the Gremlin or Stitch. 

Pete’s very bad at trying to change the topic of conversation, that much has been established already, but he’s really making sure that everyone knows it for sure. “Anyone doing anything this weekend?” 

“I’m playing the Sims for twelve straight hours and regretting my life choices,” Brendon says.

“Dandy,” Gerard nods, looking at him oddly.

“What are you doing then?” Frank asks, hoping for something he can maybe use.

“I wouldn’t tell you,” Gerard says.

“Wouldn’t?”

“What?”

“Well you said ‘wouldn’t,’” Frank replies, “which implies that you’re not doing anything, because you wouldn’t be saying ‘wouldn’t’ if you were doing something because it sort of entails that you’re not doing anything, hence ‘I wouldn’t tell you’ and it’s easy to figure out that what that extends to mean is that ‘I wouldn’t tell you, _if_ I _were_ doing something.’ So, you’re not doing something.”

“Okay, by a show of hands, who here is completely lost,” Pete says, raising his own arm. Mikey looks at him like he’s the only small teddy bear left in the store, which is to say that Frank needs a barf bag.

“Okay my point is that Gerard’s not doing anything this weekend, and you know who else isn’t doing anything? Me,” Frank says.

“Uh, that’s great. I don’t see any reason for why those two statements need to be stated together, but if you say so,” Gerard says, looking down at the grass below him like it’s all he cares about.

“You know Gerard, you don’t have to do nothing, you could hang out with Frank,” Mikey suggests, as casually as he can.

“The only hanging out with Frank I would like to do is if he was hanging upside down from a tree branch over a cliff.”

“I take it back, _that’s_ the weirdest threat I’ve ever heard,” Pete says.

“You don’t have to be such a dick, Gerard,” Mikey sighs.

“Actually I do, I’m contractually obligated to be a dick to anyone really. I’m just an awful awful person who no one in their right mind would ever want to interact with ever, so if I were someone, say someone who was trying to get on my good side, I would give it up now so that I wouldn’t have to deal with how much of a bitch I am.”

“I like a challenge,” Frank says.

“I’m not your Everest, you don’t want to try to get to me,” Gerard says, “I don’t see why you can’t give up the ghost now.”

“That’s a dumb expression, isn’t it? ‘Give up the ghost’?” Pete says. “Like what does the ghost have to do with anything? What’s Casper been up to, like is he playing scrabble and you’re giving up because he has superior knowledge of vocabulary over you, or what?”

Brendon stares at Pete imploringly, and says, in the most resigned voice imaginable, “You’re such an idiot.”

“My point is that I don’t want to hang out with Frank, it has nothing to do with Scrabble,” Gerard says, confusedly.

“Okay, but may I suggest this, how about we play scrabble?” Frank asks.

“How about you stop bothering me?”

“How about I keep trying until you soften up a little bit?” 

“How about you understand that that’s never going to happen?” Gerard asks.

“How about you two stop bickering like an old married couple,” Ray says, and Frank turns the color of a strawberry, while Gerard suddenly becomes extremely interested in his fingernails.

“Well that shut them up, I commend you,” Brendon says, giving him a thumbs up and biting into his sandwich. 

“I was just, like, never mind,” Frank mutters. He sighs. This has all got to work out somehow, doesn’t it? It’s not like he doesn’t get together with Gerard in the end. If the other Frank could do it, he should be able to as well, right? Why is it so hard? Why is it impossible to say the right thing to Gerard? All he wants is to get on his good side. Just a little bit. That’s all he wants. 

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Gerard whispers, barely loud enough for him to hear. “You wouldn’t want to be my friend even if I didn’t hate you.”

“Hate is a big word,” Mikey notes.

“No, enormous is a big word,” Pete says, “And so is gigantic. Huge. Colossal. Massive.”

“You need to shut up,” Brendon warns him.

“I’m trying to be helpful!”

“We don’t need you to read out the thesaurus page for big, Pete.”

“I’m sorry,” Pete frowns.

“And if we did, surely the first synonym for big would be the size of Brendon’s ego,” Frank adds.

“Yeah, or the size of Brendon’s forehead.”

“I hate you so much it amounts to the size of Brendon’s forehead,” Pete says, testing it out like it’s a new saying. “Yeah, I like it. Has a certain ring to it.”

“Someday I’ll be like Van Gogh. I’m just not respected in my own time, that’s all,” Brendon says.

“Yeah, shut up forehead,” Pete says.

“Someday, I am going to be rich and famous and I’ll give you nothing, Pete, nothing but a middle finger and a scoff.”

“Right, so I’m assuming the riches will be earned when you join the circus to show off your ridiculously huge forehead,” Pete asks.

“Do you see what I have to deal with?” Brendon says, to no one in particular, possibly Jesus.

Frank just smirks and he sets his eyes on Gerard, who was apparently staring at him, because he turns away the instant that they make eye contact. Frank considers that to be a good thing. Maybe future Gerard wasn’t lying about him having a crush on him, it may seem that way sometimes, but at the same time, it also seems like Gerard really is just bitter over the whole ignoring thing. Whatever the case, Frank is not going to give up without a fight, not until hell freezes over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real talk though, what Hogwarts house would Pete be in? I'm feeling the Hufflepuff vibe.


	13. To Brony Or Not To Brony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank says it.

There is actually a part of him, a very small part of Frank, that feels kind of guilty about sitting in the tower part of the jungle gym, but the rest of him doesn’t give that much of a shit. He knows it’s a Saturday and that there are kids who want to be where he and the other two are, but he doesn’t care enough to move. He likes it where he is, and he’s going to stay here until someone forces him away.

“Do you think we’re going to get yelled at by soccer moms who think we’re being punks?” Brendon asks.

“They’ll probably discourage of Pete the most, he’s the one who looks like trouble,” Frank says, because Pete, is in fact terrifying, but it’s not his personality it’s mostly his face. Or at least that’s the way Frank sees things.

“We could just push him off,” Brendon says, and Pete makes a spitting sound so presumably he just spit at Brendon. Frank watches his feet dangling off the edge, looking at his shoes and noticing all the scoffs on the sides and the dirt scattered across them. He looks down at the woodchips below, and then back up where he watches two siblings trying to swing higher than the other on the other side of the park.

“I don’t see why you’re ganging up on me, I’m perfect,” Pete sighs.

“Perfectly idiotic.”

“You’re a dick.”

“No, you’re a dick,” Brendon says.

“Shut up, you two. You’re both dicks.”

“Fair enough,” Brendon says, and Frank looks over at him for a moment before he looks up, squinting at the sun that’s directly in his eye. It’s still only march so the air is still cool, and the snow has all washed away with the rain, but the overcast weather hasn’t made the days get any warmer. Today is the first day since last week where the sun has had the nerve to rear its head up above the clouds, and Frank’s honestly kind of missing the rain. It’s too bright and happy while he’s feeling all melancholic and gloomy. 

“What’s got you so blue?” Pete asks, nudging Frank with his elbow.

“What? Nothing. I’m just kind of down, I guess,” Frank confesses.

“Ugh, is it about that guy at the bar again?” Pete asks.

“I mean, I guess it is.”

“Is it about that chick you met?” Brendon questions.

“More so, yeah. More about that then the guy...”

“And then Gerard too,” Pete adds. Frank wishes he could admit that it’s all the same thing. All of the problems are the same problem. Gerard not liking him or giving him the time of day is directly related to the ‘chick’ at the bar who is actually the _guy_ at the bar.

“Dude, you gotta let that one go, she was married,” Brendon says.

Frank sighs, messing with his fingers and frowning at the dirt under his fingernails, “I know, it’s, you wouldn’t understand. Even if you would, I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“You wouldn’t get it,” Frank replies.

“You’re not giving us a lot of faith, are you,” Pete says, “Like, dude, we’re here for you.”

Frank shrugs and looks at Pete, remembering that he’s probably going through a very similar situation as he is. Pete definitely doesn’t have to try to figure out all this stupid time travelling stuff, but he’s at least got something he’s hiding if Gerard’s note about him and Mikey was true. Then there’s Brendon who probably couldn’t give less of a shit about anyone’s sexuality as long as they accept that he looks good without a shirt. To be fair, he doesn’t look _bad_ without a shirt. 

“What if you don’t want to hear what it is I have to say?” Frank asks.

“Then we’ll push you off the jungle gym,” Pete says, and looks over at Brendon who nods. “Yeah, if you’re not exciting enough then we’ll push you off the thing.”

“Why is that supposed to make me feel any better?” Frank asks.

“Because you know that we’re here for you with whatever, bro,” Brendon says, “unless, you’re like, an arsonist or a murderer or something, then I think I have permission to maybe not wanna hang with you.”

“Right! So as long as you’re not into fire or homicide, we’re here for you,” Pete says. “Or if you try to tell us you’re a Brony.” 

“Ew, yeah, agreed. If you’re a Brony we can’t be friends anymore. I mean, I’ll come visit you in prison if you’re into murdering people, that’s fine, but like, nope, I can’t accept the other thing, I don’t even want to say the word because I might puke in my mouth if I do.”

“Wow, okay so none of the above,” Frank says.

Pete makes a ‘phew’ sound and acts out wiping his brow of sweat, “dodged a bullet there, didn’t we?”

“You guys are weirdos,” Frank says, doing his best to stable his heartbeat. He looks around him, and right now, they’re the only two people at the park aside from the kids on the swings and their mom, who’s out of earshot to hear them anyway.

Frank considers for an extremely long moment, feeling the sun beating down on his head like an oven, and he feels his skin get all prickly with fear at the thought of it, but he thinks that now would be a good time. Now would be a great time to just say it. To just come out with it and, well... _come out_. 

But every time that Frank tries, his body stops him in some way or another. Either his voice just up and leaves him, or his throat closes up, or his sweat glands overact, or he’s got to puke, or something else disastrous. Right now, he feels his hand shaking, shaking like he can’t keep it still even when he puts it between his thighs to calm himself down, it’s still shaking, making him feel like he’s in the middle of an earthquake.

He doesn’t have to say all of it, he can just say a quick ‘I’m gay’ and be done with the whole thing. He doesn’t have to be the crazy homosexual who believes his future husband traveled back in time to sleep with him. He can just leave that part out. That doesn’t need to ever be spoken to anyone ever. Well, Gerard at some point, because otherwise there’s no way for him to go back in time to do the thing. 

Why does this have to be such a big deal? Why does he have to even announce it, why does the world have to just assume he’s straight? Why is that fair? Why can’t he just be Frank? He doesn’t want to be gay or the guy who isn’t straight, he just wants to be someone who likes boys and doesn’t have to deal with the abnormality of that. Loads of people like boys, girls are allowed to, everyone assumes they all do, why is it so weird that Frank does too? Why can’t it just be seen as normal? Frank doesn’t understand or like the incongruity of it all, he just wants to have a fucking boyfriend and be done with it. He wants to just ask Gerard Way the fuck out and buy him a mountain of candy or popcorn or whatever he wants in the world. 

Frank thinks he’d be a good boyfriend. He can see himself, picture how great he’d treat whoever he’s dating. That whoever used to be a faceless body, but now it’s Gerard. He’d be such a fantastic boyfriend to Gerard. He would watch any movie in the world with him, buy him dinner, win him stuffed animals in claw machines or at fairs, beat the shit out of him in Mario Kart and then make up for it by giving him the best sex ever, he’d do it all. He would be the perfect boyfriend. He would buy Gerard anything, and hold his hand everywhere, and tell him he looks cute when they wake up, and he would bake for him, and write him post it notes to tell him how much he loves him, and he would seriously dominate him at every game they ever play, even if it’s fucking Uno, and he wouldn’t apologize for it. He would just be everything Gerard needs from him, in any fashion that he can.

Frank wants that so bad, but if he can’t even admit to his two best friends that he’s gay, then he can’t have any of it. If he doesn’t have the nerve to tell people he knows will understand, than how could he ever expect to be with Gerard? If he’s that chicken, then he doesn’t even deserve Gerard.

“I’ve gotta say this guys, and I need you to understand how hard this is for me,” Frank says, in a croak, and he eyes all the space around them to make sure no one else overhears.

“Okay, shoot, Frank. What is it?”

“It’s just...” Frank drifts off, feeling someone choking him, there’s hands around his neck, but when he brings his hands up to feel for them, the hands aren’t there. He’s only imagining it. “I’ve been lying to you.”

“About what?”

“Th-the girl,” Frank says, “that I slept with.”

“You didn’t sleep with someone last weekend?” Pete asks incredulously, and Frank doesn’t dare look at him, for fear of what expression he will find there if he does.

“No, I did,” he says. He doesn’t know why his eyes are burning. It’s like they’re trying to cry, but he can’t form actual tears and he doesn’t want to cry anyway. It’s his whole face in only a matter of seconds, not just his eyes, everything feels like it’s on fire and burning to ashes.

“Okay?” Brendon offers a confused expression.

“I...” Frank takes a deep breath and says, “Here I go, man, ugh, I did sleep with someone on Thursday, and they were married, and I did really like them. Problem was that they weren’t, a, uh, girl.” Frank’s voice gets progressively higher as his sentence goes on to the point where the last few words may have only been accessible to a dogs ears.

“Wait,” Pete says, but Frank interrupts him.

“Guys, I’m gay.”

“Well thank fuck,” Pete says, “I was really worried you were going to tell us what your favorite pony was.”

“Or that he thinks that Antz is better than A Bugs Life,” Brendon says.

“Okay, dude, we’ve been over this before. Antz is far superior to A Bugs Life,” Pete says.

“No it’s not! It’s stupid, it’s not even good, the animation in A Bugs Life is better and Antz has a stupid plot.”

“Okay, seriously, you’re just biased, because you like Pixar better.”

“Pixar _is_ better,” Brendon responds. 

“Nuh-uh! You’ve seen How to Train Your Dragon, how can you say that Pixar is better?”

“Pixar has Finding Nemo, dude.”

“DreamWorks has Shrek.”

“DreamWorks has The Bee Movie,” Brendon counteracts.

“Pixar has Cars 2,” Pete says, and Frank honestly looks from one of them to the other, not entirely sure what just happened. He’s pretty sure he just came out, but they’re having a debate about movie studios and films about bugs, so, it’s completely possible that he’s dreaming.

“Did you two miss entirely what I just said?”

“What? No, it’s just that, Frank, it’s really important that Pete knows how much better A Bugs Life is,” Brendon says.

“You’re delusional,” Pete shakes his head, “you’re just a complete idiot, you can’t even consider the fact that maybe Antz is better than A Bugs Life.”

“It’s not!”

“Oh my god, it takes me two years to come out to you guys and you can’t even stop fighting about fucking bugs to even acknowledge it!” Frank asks, bewildered.

“Hey, Frank, dude, we don’t care what you’re into, you’re still Frank. It’s not a big deal who you like. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like it’s unimportant, but the fact of the matter is that being into dudes doesn’t deserve some big gasp or anything, it’s just a thing that’s true about you, and it doesn’t change your personality at all,” Brendon says, “so, really, what _is_ a big deal is that Pete is an idiot.”

“Ugh, dick,” Pete shakes his head, “but while we’re at it, I’m bi, and DreamWorks is better.” 

“I’m bendy as fuck, and Pixar is better,” Brendon says.

“It really isn’t,” Pete shakes his head. Frank just sighs and rolls his eyes. Honestly, he was kind of expecting this sort of reaction out of them, though he thought that maybe he would get at least one shocked face. He’s not sure that that’s a letdown though, because it doesn’t feel like anything’s changed. That’s the way he wants it to be. He wants everything to just stay the same. He wants everything to be the way it was fifteen minutes ago, and it kind of does feel like that.

Frank hadn’t noticed it fade, but everything seems to be back to normal. His heart rate is steady, his hands aren’t clammy, his face feels regular, if a tad bit hot, but nothing is clenching in his gut the way it was before. It’s like he’s lifted some huge weight from his shoulders. He can feel himself breathing properly for the first time in ages, and for a minute, it’s kind of nice to hear them bickering about movies. It’s like nothing has changed. He’s still Frank. He’s the same Frank, just a little freer. Pete’s still the same Pete, just a little freer. Brendon’s still the same Brendon just a little Brendonier.

Frank knows that he is now going to have to face them teasing him about Gerard, because once he says it out loud, it’s kind of so obvious it hurts, but he’s content for now to just listen to them fighting. They are going to see through that though. He’s crazy for Gerard, and that might also help them put together the pieces as to why he’s so stuck on the doppelgänger in the bar. Maybe he and Pete can exchange tips about the opposite Way’s though, or dubiously talk up to them about each other, but for now, everything is the way it was, and Frank grins to himself a little bit.

And suddenly, the sun beating down on him isn’t as annoying as it was five minutes ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guess who met Gerard Way last night (and hugged him)?


	14. Bart SIMpson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To be fair, as someone who likes girls, Idris Elba is the only exception.

Monday mornings are awful. The only thing on this planet that is worse than a Monday morning is when your mother starts using your middle name. That’s it. That’s the only thing. Looking into the eyes of the grim reaper himself isn’t as bad as a Monday morning.

This Monday isn’t as bad as last Monday however. Last Monday was the day after Gee had left Frank. It was the day he made an idiot of himself in front of Gerard. It was the worst thing he has ever had to endure in his entire life. And Frank once sat through the first Twilight movie with his kind-of-girlfriend-but-not-really.

Mainly he’s trying not to fall asleep as he looks down at his cereal bowl, eyeing his mother as she busies herself doing the dishes that Frank was supposed to do last night. Sunday’s are depressing too, because most of the day is spent dreading the day to follow. Frank doesn’t understand how half of life is spent waiting for one day of the week, Saturday, and the rest of life is spent dreading the fact that that day is over.

All he can do is just sit, and look at the dry cereal in the bowl in front of him because milk makes him sick and he honestly would like to just go back to bed and sleep in until Christmas or his wedding day or that concert that he’s taking Gerard to. Honestly, he’s never heard of the band before but if Gerard likes them, the guy who’s favorite bands are The Smashing Pumpkins and Iron Maiden, then surely they can’t be _that_ bad. Though when you google them the first image you get is of a supermarket in a suburb of Atlanta. 

As promised, Brendon did not hang out with him or Pete yesterday because he spent 12 hours playing the Sims and regretting his life choices. But on the plus side Bart SIMpson now has a huge family and a thriving career in rocket science. Instead Frank spent a very long amount of time trying to explain exponential decay to Pete who evidently was not paying attention in math class literally almost five years ago when they learned it. Frank considers himself a procrastinator. If he’s a procrastinator then there isn’t a word for whatever the hell Pete is. Pete’s not very good at homework. Or schoolwork. Or work in general. What he is good at is making poop jokes. He still lives in the mind of a child. 

He never really got around to asking Pete about Mikey though. Maybe he will later today, but he does really have to say something about it, because Pete could be a great tool to get to Gerard. Gerard doesn’t hate Pete as much as he seems to hate Frank. Frank supposes that that’s because he’s had a crush on Frank who’s ignored him for several years, so if it weren’t for the fact that he also had a crush on Frank the whole time, Gerard probably wouldn’t hate him so much. 

He needs to use Pete in any way that he can. And possibly Mikey too. And if he has to, in return for their help in getting him to be with Gerard, he will get them together. He’s probably going to be gagging a lot for the rest of his life, but whatever. That would make Pete his brother in law or something. Kind of. Not really. Frank’s not sure how those things work. He just knows that Pete would be a weirdass person to have to see on holidays. Good god, think of the crazy little adopted children they would have. If Pete has a child the first word his kid would learn would be pizza. But to be fair if Frank has a kid their first word will be coffee.

Frank’s really trying not to focus on his existential fear that this is all fake and that he’s chasing after something that’s not real. He’s completely terrified of the fact that maybe he won’t end up with Gerard or maybe he’ll mess everything up. He just wants it so much. He wants to be with Gerard, he wants to be married to Gee and get to know the guy that sat on the roof with him on Thursday night. He wants to get to wake up next to that guy, and know that it’s Gerard and he wants to make pancakes that end up getting stuck to the ceiling when they try to flip them. He wants all of that so desperately he can’t bear it.

He knows that he’s too young to be making decisions like that. He’s too young to have decided who he wants to marry and how he’s going to spend holidays. He’s just full of dumb ideas and he can’t figure out why on earth any of this seems so terrifying, he just fucking wants it.

He’s not looking forward to the long distance that they’ll probably be going through for the next four years. It’s only just now occurring to him that they’re probably going to be going to two different sides of the country. His luck is definitely not good enough for them to be going to the same college. Fuck, why is life so hard? Why does he have to go to school, he doesn’t want another four years of this hell, he just wants to eat snacks all day and, like, fuck. A lot. Lots of fucking. So Gerard needs to not have a job either. That’s what he wants. That sounds absolutely amazing. 

It’s about five minutes after he should have left when Frank finally decides to leave. The sky is returning to its cerulean blue color after too long of the grey, but it’s still early so the sun isn’t the highest in the sky quite yet. 

Monday’s are sweatpants days. Or at least, they are when you’re not trying to impress someone. In that case Mondays are somewhat low hanging shirt days because if you have collarbones to flaunt, then you must flaunt the fuck out of them. Frank’s not actually sure what it is about collarbones that’s so attractive he just knows that there’s literally nothing better than a good collarbone. Or just necks in general. Necks are nice. Frank never knew he would have this much in common with vampires when he grew up.

Frank pulls into the school parking lot, busier than he would like for it to be so he can’t get a nice spot, and he walks to the assembly of people waiting for the doors. He spots Pete and Brendon quickly because he can hear Pete yelling about Brendon concerning something to do with Cyclops being cooler than Wolverine, and he just rolls his eyes. It’s always something with them. Brendon and Pete aren’t getting along unless they’re fighting over something related to pop culture. They got really exceptional grades for the debate unit in public speaking class when they talked about Picard and Kirk. It was really a rather volatile debate, extremely impassioned. One of Brendon’s actual main points was about the reflective qualities of Patrick Stewart’s head. 

Frank needs better friends.

He finds them quickly enough and then he is forced to mediate their argument, and what he does to achieve this is tell them that they’re both wrong and Nightcrawler is far superior. He’s not wrong though. 

“Oh, who asked you,” Brendon says.

“You did. Literally just now,” Frank tells him.

“Well, fine, but I didn’t like your answer so screw it,” Brendon replies.

“I mean, but like, you seriously think that dumb fucking claws are cooler than fucking laser beam eyes!” Pete asks.

“Dude, he’s got to wear sunglasses or else he blows like everything up, that’s not cool,” Brendon says, “that’s just impractical, I mean, how does he go to the movie theater?”

“You know what’s even cooler though?” Frank asks, “The ability to literally just appear in the movie theater without having to pay because you have a sickass superpower.”

“Yeah, but that’s, like, illegal.”

“Dude, we’re talking about the X-men, being a mutant at all is basically illegal.”

“True,” Brendon nods. “I still say Wolverine beats your guys’ asses.”

“No one cares about your opinion, forehead.”

“No one cares about your face, asshole.”

“Great comeback,” Frank says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Oh shut up,” Brendon says, and he looks away because apparently he needs to look dramatically off in the distance if he doesn’t get his way. “Oh hey look it’s Pete’s boyfriend.”

“My who now?” Pete asks, and Frank already knows who he’s looking for when he spots Mikey and Ray’s heads, but Gerard isn’t in sight. 

“Hi Pete,” Mikey says getting to them, and Frank wonders if he even realizes that he has progressively stopped saying hi to everyone who isn’t Pete. First he dropped saying hi to Gerard, and then it was Brendon, now it’s Frank. Soon he’s going to stop even registering their existences. But Pete’s face lights up like someone bought him a new car. Frank curses to himself that he didn’t bring a barf bag with him. It’s kind of sweet a little bit, because Pete looks happy but it’s Pete so it’s kind of gross. Maybe if he hasn’t known Pete since forever it wouldn’t be so weird, but he assumes he’s going to get used to it soon. Hopefully. 

Frank’s starting to wonder if Pete’s even aware that he likes Mikey. And vice versa. Both of them seem pretty oblivious when it comes to each other. At least when Frank fawns over Gerard he knows that he’s doing it. And when Brendon looks at himself in the mirror, he’s mostly aware of the fact that he’s in love with himself. Frank’s a little tough on the guy, but Brendon _does_ usually refers to himself as the most attractive person in school.

“What’s up then?” Ray says, because his mind isn’t apparently as narrow as Mikey’s. The two of them have horse blinders, Frank really hopes he’s not that obvious.

Almost as if to prove his whole fear to be true, Frank can’t stop himself from asking, “So where’s Gerard?”

“Dentist appointment,” Mikey says offhandedly, before asking Pete how his weekend was.

“Bart SIMpson had another kid,” Brendon says, “I named him Kevin.”

“Kevin SIMpson? Frank asks.

“No,” Brendon shakes his head, “Just Kevin. Like Beyoncé. Or Prince.” 

“Well that’s...” Ray says and then he turns to see if Pete and Mikey are having a more exciting conversation.

“And how is Bart’s life?” Frank asks, “How’s the astronaut thing going?”

“Fine, but his wife was annoying so I killed her,” Brendon replies, “So he married her brother.”

“That’s a little sleazy,” Frank replies. 

“Yeah well, it’s a sleazy world we live in,” Brendon says, and Frank’s not positive that he’s not getting his Sims mixed up with the real world like he did with The Princess Diaries. Brendon thought Genovia was a real country until tenth grade. 

“Do you think they’re paying attention to a single thing that we say?” Brendon asks.

“No I don’t think so,” Frank shakes his head.

“Pete, if you can hear me I agree with you, Cyclops is better,” Brendon says, and when he doesn’t turn around to scream ‘aha’, Brendon makes a face, “that’s totally not true anyway.”

“He’s fucking clueless.”

“So then it’s completely fine if we talk about the fact that Pete’s in love with Mikey.”

“Thank god,” Frank says, “I was wondering if I was the only one who noticed.”

“Dude, my bedside lamp has noticed,” Brendon replies.

“Okay, then can I ask you another question? How obvious is-”

“Your crush on Gerard?” Brendon asks, “Couldn’t be more obvious.”

“It really couldn’t,” Ray says, turning to look at Frank, who feels his stomach fall because he did not know that Ray was listening to them at all. 

“Fuck, you heard that?” Frank hisses.

“I mean, it’s not like it was a secret,” Ray replies. 

“Fuck!” Frank shouts, maybe a little bit too loudly. 

“And it’s not like those two are any less obvious,” Ray says, using his hair to nod towards Mikey and Pete.

“Does Gerard know?” Frank asks. “About me, I mean. He was the one who pointed those two out to me so of course he knows.”

“Gerard wouldn’t recognize someone having a crush on him if you were to scream it in his face and tattoo it on your forehead,” Ray replies. “But I mean, if it helps any, you’re totally his type.”

“Really?” Frank asks, “He has a type?”

“Yeah, like, guys who wear black a lot,” Ray shrugs, “or something like that.”

“I can wear more black. I can buy eyeliner,” Frank says.

“Yeah, that’s not what I meant. It’s just sort of something about people who wear a lot of black. The ambiance of it, I guess. I think it’s the haircut or something.”

“He has such a dumb haircut though,” Brendon says evaluating him analytically so Frank flips him off, and frowns.

“I take offense to that,” Frank says.

“You were meant to,” Brendon replies.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m the only straight person in this school,” Brendon says, “And then I remember that Idris Elba exists.”

“That’s nice Brendon,” Frank says, “so can I ask, did you know, like before?” 

“Before what?” Brendon asks.

“Before I told you,” Frank says quietly, because Ray doesn’t need to hear this specific thing. 

“Told me...?” Brendon asks, and Frank sighs, and then Brendon gets this look in his eyes, “Oh! Right, sorry, got you.”

“And?”

“Oh, uh, I mean, I had a suspicion or two, but I wasn’t going to say anything about it, ‘cause that would’ve been rude.”

“Fuck,” Frank says, “What is it about me?” 

“No it wasn’t you, it was the way you acted with Gerard, it was like, really-”

“In your face,” Ray finishes for him.

“Yeah,” Brendon says, “like you look at him like he’s your future husband.”

“Pffft,” Frank says, pulling a painfully fake face that he hopes isn’t as dumb as he thinks it is, “that’s crazy.”

“It’s not.”

Frank’s voice, getting all high and pitchy, says, “I do not think of Gerard like that. I barely know him. I’ve known him for a week. A week today. 168 hours. No longer than that, I don’t think he’s my future husband, that’s ridiculous.”

“Alright, so Frank’s acting weird,” Brendon says, looking away. Frank agitates his feet nervously and looks around, hoping for something to rescue him from his own.

He looks at Mikey and Pete, and the only thing that’s missing is Mikey twirling his hair. It’s not long enough for him to twirl anyway. But Frank is almost expecting it to grow out so that he can twist it around his finger and bite his lip, and blink too much, and why aren’t they already fucking making out, it’s so obvious. But Pete seems to ignore it. If someone were to call Gerard Frank’s boyfriend he would have a panic attack followed by a series of shushing and begging, but when Brendon says it to Pete he looks like you’re telling him that the earth is made out of peanut butter.

Brendon is still looking anywhere, studying the brickwork of the school to the bird shit on the flagpole, when Frank looks back at him, and Ray is looking directly at him, not even bothering to pretend he doesn’t think Frank is insane beyond measure. Frank has bad luck, very bad luck, but he does get a break just this once when the bell rings.

“Oh hey look at that, saved by the bell,” Brendon says, “but we can continue this awkward conversation later.”

“Or pretend it didn’t happen,” Frank says.

“Yeah we could, but as your best friend it is my sworn duty to make fun of you,” Brendon shouts back, running through the crowd of people to get away from them. Pete’s too busy talking to Mikey to even notice, let alone correct Brendon on calling himself Frank’s best friend. That’s how you know that that shit is fucking serious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No but seriously Blurryface.


	15. Hate vs. Indifference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank likes Gerard's laugh.

“Hey,” Frank says, throwing his books down onto the desk next to Gerard, who’s already seated with his eyes focused on the rain pattering against the window. The drops glide slowly down the glass pane and distort the shapes of the trees outside.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you scared me!” Gerard shouts when Frank’s book hits the desk.

“Sorry,” Frank replies, “so I didn’t see you yesterday.”

“I was at the dentist,” Gerard replies.

“All day?” Frank asks.

“I had a cavity.”

“All day?” Frank asks again.

“Fuck, I didn’t want to go to school when my lip felt like it weighed four pounds, okay?” Gerard says.

“Or you were avoiding me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Gerard replies.

“That’s not really what flattery is,” Frank replies. “Anyway, where were you at lunch if you weren’t trying to avoid me?”

“Talking to teachers,” Gerard replies.

“So you just conveniently were nowhere around me for almost a day and a half plus the weekend. Interesting.”

“Would you give that up?” Gerard asks, “I don’t care about you. I’m not trying to avoid you, I am simply indifferent.”

“Yeah?” Frank asks, “Then why are you always trying to pretend that you hate my guts.”

“I do hate your guts.”

“You can’t be both indifferent and hate my guts at the same time,” Frank says, because he’s pretty sure that you have to choose one or the other. Either you don’t care about someone or you hate them, but you can’t hate and not care about someone.

“Yes I can.”

“Well, here’s a question then, if I were standing in the middle of the street and a bus were coming and I didn’t see it, would you let it run me over?” Frank asks.

“I-,” Gerard starts and then stops looks down at his pencil, up at the whiteboard and then over at Frank with this weird expression on his face. “Well, like, I’d warn you. I hate you but I don’t want you to get hit by a fucking bus.” 

“So you’re not indifferent and you don’t hate me,” Frank says.

“Yes, I do hate you, and I am indifferent, but I’m also a human and I don’t want to be responsible for letting someone actually get hit by an actual fucking bus.” 

“Yeah but if you really were indifferent to me than you’d let me get hit, and if you really hated me you’d be taking pictures,” Frank says.

“No, I just don’t want a guy to get hit by a bus,” Gerard says, “I’m human, I’m not a monster.”

“Well you can say that all you want, but I’m taking that as an admittance that you like me.”

“Like _you_?” Gerard asks, in an attempt to make the word ‘you’ sound like it’s the most preposterous word that has ever been spoken by anyone, but it’s not working. If Frank didn’t already know that Gerard likes him, he sure would know now. Actually, he probably wouldn’t. Frank is almost incapable of understanding how anyone on this planet could ever possibly like him, and it’s not because he’s self-conscious or anything, he just feels like everyone else is a million times better than he is. Sure that itself sounds self-conscious, but Frank falls in love with practically every stranger he meets, and he thinks the best of people and he finds it hard to believe that, out of all the billions of people in this world, why would Gerard want him? There’s so many dozens of people with better senses of humor, more muscles, better voices, more talent, and everything else that you might find attractive in a person, and that just leaves him being the guy left out. 

For example, Pete is easily the funniest person Frank knows, and Brendon’s the best singer. His mother can make any math problem her bitch, and even Mikey, who Frank barely knows, is a fucking badass mind reader. Gerard seems to have this magic about him to get you to smile if he makes eye contact with you. Or maybe that’s just his way with Frank. There’s bound to be some sort of connection between them if all this magic time traveling shit is real, because, like, fuck, the idea that it’s just a coincidence that all this stuff is happening to them seems unlikely. He doubts that they were just picked at random as the one couple who would literally have fucking time travel become possible for them to be together, because that’s seriously not as great a story in the slightest. There’s got to be something cosmic between them. Something that makes Frank’s heart stutter like a car driving along a gravel road whenever he makes eye contact with the guy.

“I didn’t mean that you were tripping over yourself in love with me, I just mean that you like me in the way that you don’t _dis_ like me,” Frank sighs.

“You’re wrong about that, but you’re right that I’m not in love with you. Is that even possible?”

“I’ll have you know, I’m perfectly lovable,” Frank pouts.

“I bet you Satan said the very same thing.”

“Why would Satan think of himself as lovable? What does Satan have to do with anything anyway?”

“Well what’s love got to do with it?” Gerard asks.

“I see what you did there,” Frank says, looking at him with a sideways glare, “You should be disappointed in yourself.”

“Nope,” Gerard says, and then he turns away with too much finality for Frank. He spends a few seconds just looking at Gerard, looking at the side of his face that he can see, half covered by his hair. It’s not as greasy looking as it had been the other day. Frank wonders if it’s the kind of hair that you could run your fingers through or if it’s too tangled and gross. He hopes he’ll get to find out someday. He can’t honestly remember what Gee’s hair had been like. He was too caught up in the moment. 

“Gerard?” Frank asks after there’s been about a minute of silence while he searches for something to say. 

“What?” he snaps, turning to look at Frank. Frank quickly checks the clock to see that the bell will ring in about a minute, but their teacher isn’t going to be coming in for at least another three or four minutes. He’s never been on time. 

“You were, uh, right about Pete. Pete liking Mikey, I mean,” Frank says.

“I know I was,” Gerard replies, snarling like Frank just told him that circles are circular, or that water is wet, or that republicans are sexist. 

“I mean, like, Mikey’s not exactly an innocent party in the whole ordeal either,” Frank replies.

“No, of course he’s not, he’s flirting back, but your friend started it. It’s weird,” Gerard says. “Mikey keeps talking about ‘my friend Pete’ at dinner like they’ve known each other for years.”

“What about you?” Frank asks.

“What _about_ me?” Gerard asks.

“I mean, do you think Pete’s okay?” Frank asks, not sure if that’s really the question he meant to ask at all. Obviously the question that he most wants to ask is if Gerard wants to marry him, but he feels like that might be a little preemptive considering he is not dating Gerard, he has known Gerard for a week, they are only eighteen, Gerard hates him, and Frank is still hung up on the whole letter and the weekend before last and all the works. It’s not his fault is was a great weekend. It was a very very very nice weekend. Gee was there. He didn’t have any clothes on. It was a wonderful experience. 

“I think he’s weird,” Gerard replies.

“Well yeah, I mean, everyone does,” Frank replies, “We had to write an essay on what we love most in this world in sixth grade and Pete wrote his on pizza. To be fair though, Brendon wrote his on himself before the teacher told him he wasn’t allowed to.”

“And what was yours about?”

“What?” Frank asks, “Oh, uh, you know. The usual.”

“And the usual would be?”

“Uh, like, well... Star Wars.” 

Gerard turns his head, but Frank swears that he can see him smiling for a second which makes him grin too, and blush all along the sides of his face and even down to his neck. He’s not sure why that’s embarrassing, but he really wishes he’d written about something cool like some obscure indie band, or a badass action movie, or supermodels or something, but no, no his thesis was about who shot first. In conclusion, Han Solo. In defense of the other side of the argument, fuck off you snot rag it was Han, bite me. 

“I think that’s basically your personalities all boiled down to the center,” Gerard says.

“Yep pretty much. Brendon had to write about house pets though, because he wasn’t trusted to pick his own topic. But if you think he’s incapable of writing an any number of pages paper about himself than you would be very surprised to read the encyclopedia series he could put out.”

“If he’s so stuck up why do you hang out with him?” 

“Stuck up doesn’t mean he’s a bad person. Like, he’s a good dude, Brendon just makes Narcissus look like an average Joe,” Frank says.

“You’re awfully sweet about the guy who is supposedly your best friend,” Gerard says, sardonically.

“What? Brendon. Brendon is my best friend? No, if he tells you that he’s a liar. My best friend is my pet rock.”

“You have a pet rock?”

“Well, he was originally my moms, she was a child of the seventies, so they were like ‘in’ back then, but yes, I have a pet rock and his name is Dimitrius.”

“That’s such an inappropriate name for a rock.”

“He prefers boulder-American, and I’m not the one who named him,” Frank responds.

“I’m starting to question whether this rock really exists or not. Excuse me, boulder-American,” Gerard says and there’s no mistaking it this time that he’s smiling. Frank thinks that maybe the key to his heart is to get him to laugh. So if he has to, he will read out every joke he ever finds to Gerard ever. He will invest in thousands of popsicles and a blow dryer. 

“No, Dimitrius is as real as you or me, or Ryan Seacrest or someone else who is completely real.”

“Wow, and he’s more important than either Brendon or Pete?”

“They’re just place fillers until I infiltrate Taylor Swift’s squad.”

Gerard snorts at that and Frank’s pretty sure he smiles wider than he ever has before, because there’s nothing better than hearing Gerard laugh. He laughs really stupidly, like a goose combined with the giggle of an evil girl from a horror movie, and also there’s a hint of a train horn, and Frank thinks he could keel over dead from how much it makes his heart swell. It’s honestly probably the stupidest laugh he’s ever heard and that is why he’s already picking out china patterns. 

“That’s a beautiful dream,” Gerard says, doing his best not to look at Frank, and he supposes that that’s alright. For now at least, Gerard doesn’t have to look at him. He can get by just making him laugh, and someday he’s going to write Gerard a standup routine, or literally anything. He’ll do it. He’d do anything. He’s a hopeless romantic who’s watched too many chick flicks with his mother. Family movie night is an on and off affair though, and Frank always picks thrillers or horror, so she has every right to combat that with the entire repertoire of Sandra Bullock’s movie career. 

“I’m aware,” Frank nods, “and what’s yours then?”

“My what?”

“Dream that’s totally farfetched and idiotic,” Frank responds.

“Win a million dollars?”

“That’s fucking cliché, unacceptable. I need a better answer from you,” Frank replies.

“Ugh, I don’t know. I guess, like, no I don’t know,” Gerard says, which isn’t a very decisive sentence, but at least he’s got the guy both talking and smiling. It’s a win for Frank.

“Aw, bummer,” Frank says, “You sure? Nothing? Win an Oscar? Live in a mansion? Discover Atlantis? Breathe the same air as Morgan Freeman?”

Gerard just shakes his head, “I guess I’ll just have to get back to you on that one.”

Frank shrugs, because this is probably the longest amount of time he’s gotten Gerard talking to him, so it’s already a success. If only he could get him to stop trying to hate him. He thinks that’s their biggest problem here, Gerard is trying too hard to hate him that he’s completely unaware of the fact that Frank is flirting his fucking ass off. If the guy would only open his eyes he would see how transparent Frank’s flirting attempts really are. 

“I’ll be waiting for that,” Frank says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment please?


	16. Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hate writing summaries.

By a happenstance that is completely not coincidental and may or may not be related to Frank, once again, stealing things from Pete’s locker, he finds himself sitting at a table, all of a day after Frank realized he was in love with the way Gerard laughs, staring uncomfortably at Mikey.

The rain has lasted through to the afternoon for once, something it rarely does, which means that the grass outside is not something anybody wants to go around lounging in. No one is eating outside it seems, because for the first time in a week, the cafeteria is nearly full. It’s not an overly large school when you put things in perspective, but when you cram that many people in one mediocrely sized room, you start to get a little claustrophobic. 

“So, like, I need more tips,” Frank says, awkwardly. There’s really no relaxed way to say that he’s bad at getting Gerard’s attention and he needs his fucking brothers help to do so.

“I don’t know what to tell you, man,” Mikey says.

“Is he doing anything this weekend?” 

“He’s going to be playing video games and catching up on House Hunters,” Mikey says.

“So, is there, like, anyway you could lure him out of the house?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well I don’t mean lure him out of the house like I’m going to kidnap him and tie him to the radiator in my basement, I just mean that I would very much like to try to find an excuse for me to talk to him that cannot be interrupted by a bell,” Frank says.

“Well, if you wanted to tie him to a radiator, I’d be fine with that, what do I care?” Mikey says. “But to answer your question, I could probably get him to the book store. He’s been wanting a new Dungeons and Dragons book recently, I could get him there without too much worry.”

“Really?” Frank asks. “This could work. There’s a coffee shop next door too, so, like, I could bump into him and then buy him coffee?”

“You could try,” Mikey shrugs, “no promises on whether it would work or not, but it’s a possibility. Have you told him about the concert yet?”

“No,” Frank shakes his head, “I’m still looking for a good time to slip it in there, ya know? Like ‘hey, I stalked you to figure out that this band you like is playing, I bought you tickets, will you marry me’?”

“Might be a little too much to start off with,” Mikey says, “I would try instead complimenting him or something. Maybe something like ‘you’re hair isn’t _that_ greasy,’ or maybe ‘you’re only mostly bad at life’ or you could even try, ‘your brother is the coolest guy in the world, but you’re alright too, I guess.’”

“Thanks. That’s real helpful. I’ll just go over to Gerard and tell him that his brother is better than him.”

“Well if the shoe fits,” Mikey says uninterestedly, and Frank rolls his eyes at him.

“Frank!” Pete’s voice carries through the cafeteria, like a paper airplane, except stronger and more definite. People look around at him, and Frank ignores them, he’s pretty much used to Pete making a scene by now.

“Well it looks like someone realized his phone is missing,” Frank announces.

“You stole his phone?” 

“I didn’t really want to broadcast it to them that I need tips from Gerard’s brother on how to get him to fall in love with me. It’s kind of belittling,” Frank replies.

“But still, you stole his phone?” Mikey asks. Frank wonders absentmindedly if Mikey’s got Pete’s number yet. Do they flirt through text? Do they send emoji’s to each other during class? How grossly coupley are they without being an actual couple?

“I may have,” Frank says and it’s at that moment when Pete hits him over the head as he sits down.

“Hand it over, Franklin.”

“That is not my name,” Frank says, shaking his head. Pete has known him for literally over ten years and is still incapable of understanding that ‘Frank’ isn’t short for anything. Frank has known Pete for literally over ten years and still insists on calling him Peter to piss him off.

“Hand it over, Francis,” Pete says.

“Also not my name.”

“Hand it over, Maureen.”

“I don’t even know where you got that one from,” Frank replies.

“Just hand it over, assface,” Pete says.

“Now that I’ll accept. Call me assface. Wow, Moby Dick sure would be a hell of a different story if that’s how the book started, huh?” Frank says, holding Pete’s phone out to him.

“Why do you insist on stealing my stuff?” Pete asks.

“You gave me the combo, why would you do that? What are you expecting from me?”

“Evidently, more,” Pete replies. 

“Well,” Brendon says, which is his less obvious way of shouting ‘pay attention to me,’ because apparently he doesn’t like not being acknowledged. Frank was too busy annoying Pete to say hi to Brendon, and also, ignoring him makes his ears turn this pinkish color which is kind of funny. 

“Well what?” Frank asks, looking across the table at him.

“What are we talking about?”

“Frank needed tips on how to ask out my brother,” Mikey says casually, and Frank kicks him under the table. There are very few benefits of having to eat lunch indoors rather than outside, but one of those such benefits is that it is far easier to kick whomever you like, inconspicuously or not.

“What did you tell him?” Brendon asks, “My biggest recommendation would be to get a bag, put it over your face and then maybe you’ll be able to distract Gerard long enough from your ugly face to get him to say yes to a date.”

“I’m not really trying to ask him out quite yet, I just need him to stop hating me,” Frank says.

“Good luck with that,” Mikey says, raising his eyebrows like he doubts Frank is capable of that much. Frank’s not an idiot though, he knows Gerard likes him, he just has to get the guy to admit to it. Well, he is an idiot. He didn’t realize that Gerard liked him until Gerard himself, future Gerard, told him. He’s still not over how stupid that sounds.

“Okay so, Gerard likes me though, right,” Frank says, and he doesn’t wait for an answer before he continues, “what do you think would happen if I went up to him and told him that I know? Because, like, he does have a crush on me so if I were to just tell him.”

“Oh,” Pete makes a sound, and Frank looks at him to see his face screwed up in concentration, “took me a little while to put all those pieces together. But I gotcha. I gotcha.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Frank shakes his head, and then looks back at Mikey who’s looking at Frank curiously.

“How do you know Gerard likes you?” Mikey asks.

“I, uh, I just do,” Frank replies.

“No, but you can’t _know_ that,” Mikey says.

“Trust me when I say that I do know,” Frank says, “for certain.”

“Know what for certain?” a new voice prompts, and Frank has a heart palpitation before he realizes that it’s just Ray. Of course it is, Gerard is always trying to do whatever he possibly can to avoid having to be near Frank, which is a little annoying, but he’ll break the guy soon, he just knows it.

“That Gerard has a crush on me,” Frank answers.

Ray immediately looks at Mikey and says, disapprovingly, “dude!”

“I didn’t tell him!” Mikey says defensively. “Why would I tell him? Did you tell him?”

“Tell him what?” Pete asks, out of the loop that’s right in front of him as always. 

“Why would I tell him?” Ray asks.

“Wait so Gerard does have a crush on Frank then?” Brendon questions, waiting for someone to verify whatever weird conversation the other two are having. 

“No!” Ray says.

“Yes,” Frank replies.

“How do you know that?” Mikey asks. “I never told you that. At least not directly. Did I? Oh fuck, I must have. Gerard’s gonna kill me.”

“You literally didn’t, I’m just a genius,” Frank says, “I read his mind.”

“No, that’s Mikey’s thing,” Ray says, “only Mikey can read minds.”

“It’s true,” Pete says, nodding, and Frank kicks him under the table too.

“Ow, what was that for?” Pete asks.

“For being dumb.”

“What did I say?”

“It was your face,” Frank responds.

“I still need clarification on how the fuck you know about Gerard!” Mikey says, maybe a bit too loudly, because a girl at the table behind them turns to look at Mikey judgingly.

“Look, the how is not important, the point is that I just do, okay?” 

“How _much_ do you know?” Mikey asks.

“You mean, am I aware that he’s liked me since middle school?” Frank asks.

“Ray!” Mikey shouts.

“Seriously, I didn’t tell him!” Ray shouts back.

“Someone must have!” Mikey says, “And I certainly didn’t tell him _that_.”

“Tell who what?” And finally, there’s Gerard’s voice interrupting everybody to make all eyes turn to him, which is pretty creepy, and makes Gerard frown back at them. Frank takes this as an opportune time to ogle at how adorable he is when he’s, well, breathing. Frank’s got it really bad, he can’t even bear it. 

“Pete, uh, once tried to use pool noodles to walk on water but he just face planted in the pool and made an idiot of himself,” Frank says, and Pete frowns, before nodding.

“Uh,” Gerard says.

“I was testing out a theory... I just didn’t think things through,” Pete explains.

“I see why you wouldn’t want people to know that,” Gerard says, sitting on the other side of Pete because the other two spots on the other side of the table are filled. That means that there’s only one person between Frank sitting next to Gerard, if only there were a way to smoothly push Pete off the seat without making it obvious that he’s trying to get closer to Gerard. He could just push him, because that’s what friends do, but that probably wouldn’t make it any less obvious. He’ll just sit here and long for the space next to Gerard which he doesn’t get to occupy.

“He’s done a lot of stupid things,” Brendon says, “he tried to microwave orange juice.”

“Another failed experiment,” Pete notes.

“Broke his hand when he slipped while lip syncing too passionately to Toxic in the shower,” Frank adds.

“I have no defense for that one,” Pete says, nodding his head somberly. 

“Tried to pass off a Smiths song as his poetry assignment in fifth grade.”

Pete smiles, “that one I’m not ashamed of, it was just funny.”

“The whole class had to sit through a twenty minute lecture on plagiarism because of you, Pete,” Frank reminds him.

“But it was funny,” Pete answers. “I don’t think our teacher had a sense of humor.” 

Frank’s eyes almost get stuck in his skull as he rolls them as painfully obviously as he can, and he murmurs, “Well, at least you’re pretty.”

“Thank you,” Pete grins.

“That wasn’t a compliment Pete,” Brendon tells him. Pete wrinkles his eyebrows, seemingly incapable of understanding that Frank just called him stupid, which kind of proves it’s own point.

Frank shakes his head, sometimes he just doesn’t know how Pete is a real human being. He’s a complete idiot, but he’s also not. Like, he’s the most stupid person in the world, but he’s actually fairly smart which is just weird. Pete himself is a walking contradiction with an arsenal of poop jokes.

“How are you even a real human?” Gerard asks him, looking at Pete like he’s some sort of alien.

“I’ve been asking myself that same question for the past ten years,” Frank says. Frank looks up to see that Mikey is still staring at him, which kind of gives Frank a chill, because he’s giving him this look that says something along the lines of “we’ll talk later.” Frank’s not sure whether or not that’s a good or a bad thing, but he knows that there are very few people he would rather be stuck alone with then Mikey. It’s not that he’s necessarily expecting Mikey to kill him, it’s just that, if there was anyone that Frank believes could hide a body, it’s Mikey. 

But at least Frank’s got a new direction to go in, and that’s the fact that Mikey, hopefully he’ll still agree to do it, will lure Gerard to a book store and coffee, and if there’s anywhere that Frank believes he can make a guy fall in love with him, it’s a coffee shop. Maybe it’s the fumes of the coffee beans or the total aura of coffee shops as a whole, but there’s literally nothing more in tuned to allowing romance to flourish than a coffee shop. Or maybe Frank’s just too much of a romantic. Really though, his hopes for progress are starting to become more tangible, and that’s all that matters.

Frank just allows himself to look at Gerard mindlessly. He just lets his mind wonder to the fact that in some universe somewhere, Gerard is his. They’re together, and they do cute couple things. They hold hands when grocery shopping, and Frank sits in Gerard’s lap when they’re watching movies, and they get to kiss whenever they fucking want. He gets to look at Gerard completely unapologetically and tell him that he’s crazy for him without being judged. They get to fool around when they’re watching trashy TV, and call each other at work just to say hi. 

Frank’s never been someone who pined over things to the extent that he is now. He’s never wanted something this much before. Sure, there was that movie he wanted his mom to buy him, and that wicked toy his four year old self couldn’t live without, but that’s not comparable to this. He never felt an actual aching in his stomach at the fact that what he wants isn’t his yet. He’s never felt this unbelievably needy. He just wants Gerard so much that it’s almost painful.

He’s in love with the way that Gerard grins whenever he’s talking about something he likes, and how he’s starting to not mind as much that Frank sits with him at lunch. He’s absolutely crazy over the way that Gerard talks out of one side of his mouth, and always ends up finishing his sentences by gesturing with his hands to explain the words that he can’t find. He loves it all, every little nuance, every tiny quirk. Frank’s never experienced this utter wanting before, and he’s not sure that he likes the feeling. 

He’s just completely and unabashedly waiting for the day when he can just fucking kiss that stupid face. Gee was a good kisser, sure he was, but something in Frank is positive that Gerard, he’s probably a million times better. Maybe it’s the wait, or maybe it’s just the fact that this is Gerard, the real person behind who Gee was, but Frank can’t even remember his own name when he thinks about the idea of kissing him. What must it be like to actually kiss him? Frank would probably forget what limbs belong to him.

Frank is starting to wonder when he became so grossly cliché, but then he remembers, nothing about this is cliché. He’s pretty sure that no one has ever gone through the same things he has. Maybe this incapacitating crush isn’t new, but the whole predicament is certainly an original one. Waiting for it to all payoff is possibly what makes it so much more painful. He knows that they do end up together, or at least probably, and that’s what makes the fact that they’re not together yet more painful.

Frank really wishes he were five years in the future. He wants to just skip all of this. He doesn’t want to have this guttural fear that he’ll screw everything up, he wants the sure thing, and he wants it now. But then again, where would all the fun be? Frank thinks, even though he’s not happy about it, the chase is probably what makes the final thing so good. If he didn’t have to work for it, what is there to be appreciative of? Frank’s positive though, when it does finally happen, when he does finally get to hold Gerard, or kiss him, or make him laugh that dorky honking laugh, he is going to make damn sure that he cherishes every single second of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you person, I love you.


	17. Mikey Finds Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank tells Mikey, it's in the chapter name, I don't know why I make those so blunt if I have to write a summary here anyway.

“Spill it, Oreo,” Mikey says, after dragging Frank out of the lunchroom.

“Okay, is it like a running joke or something to completely forget my name?” Frank asks.

“I’m not going to attempt to pronounce your mess of a last name, Oreo,” Mikey says.

“Fine. Just call me Oreo.” 

“I already planned on it,” Mikey replies, “now, do I need to repeat myself? You need to spill on how you knew about Gerard’s, uh, crush.”

“I just know,” Frank shrugs.

“Oh, so you just happen to know all of the details of it?” Mikey asks.

“Yes?”

“Yeah right.”

“I have to get to class,” Frank says, “with your brother coincidentally.”

“You’re not going to tell him,” Mikey warns, but it sounds more like a threat than a warning.

“Uh, no?” Frank asks.

“If you tell him that you know, he’ll assume that I told you and I’ll get the cold shoulder for the rest of my life,” Mikey says, “and I still need to know how you know in the first place.”

Frank is caught between a rock and a hard place. He doesn’t know how to tell Mikey any of what he knows about Gerard, because, to put it simply, it’s crazy. Everything is crazy, and stupid, and unbelievable. If he were to tell Mikey, he’d probably retract his approval for Frank to chase after Gerard because he would think that Frank is actually crazy. He shouldn’t have opened his big mouth. He should’ve pretended not to know that Gerard likes him, because now he’s in this mess.

He supposes that the only thing he could do to get across to Mikey the reality of his knowledge is to show him the letter. But he can’t do that, that note is for him and Gerard only. He’s not supposed to show Mikey that. He can’t. And yet it seems like it might not only be the right thing to do, but it might actually help him out a million times over. If Mikey knows the truth than Frank will be able to use him more strategically. That and Mikey might actually ask Pete out. 

“Seriously though, I have class,” Frank says, “but, I’ll explain all of this to you later.”

“Are you lying to me?” Mikey asks, squinting his eyes skeptically at Frank.

“No, just, you’re going to have to come to my house for me to explain this to you. It’s kind of complicated, and you will need proof.”

“Proof?” Mikey asks in the tone that is really the most suiting for Frank’s words. “Yes, because that makes so much sense.”

“Ugh, jeez, just trust me, it’ll make sense if you just listen to me. It’s just really really really really really really really really-”

“Frank!” Mikey cuts him off.

“Sorry. Really really _really_ complicated.”

“Seriously?” Mikey asks him, “all I asked was how do you know about Gerard’s crush and you’re trying to tell me it’s as complicated as learning advanced calculus.”

“It really is,” Frank says, “You have no idea. Just, fine me at my locker after school and try to bear in mind that I’m not crazy.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Mikey says offhandedly before Frank’s scurrying away from him. He needs to go get his seat next to Gerard, because if he gets there too late then someone else, probably Ray, will have sat there and will make Frank’s jealousy turn into a raging house fire. 

Frank, luckily, arrives only seconds after Gerard’s sat down and he takes his place next to him quickly, saying a dreamy hello, and receiving an unenthusiastic grunt in return. 

“I was wondering whether you know if Mikey’s aware that he likes Pete,” Frank asks.

“What?”

“Well, like, we both know that they like each other, but I’m pretty sure that Pete’s unaware of that, so do you think Mikey is unaware too?” Frank asks, “Because, like, he might know after today.”

“Why?” Gerard asks, “What are you planning on doing?”

“Nothing!” Frank says, although that’s not quite true. If he wants to try to tell Mikey what’s going on, he’s going to have to read the letter that Gee wrote and if he reads that then he’s going to know that he ends up with Pete. There’s not much more obvious than that fact.

Frank’s still not entirely positive that telling Mikey is the right thing to do. He thinks that he should probably save that information, and let their relationship bloom naturally, but at the same time, he can’t help but to think that this could be a breakthrough for him. He thinks that Mikey would try harder if he knew what was at stake. Frank could be his actual future brother in law, but they’ve got to get him and Gerard together first before that can happen. This is all way too complicated, and Frank just wishes he could never have met Gee sometimes. 

But then he remembers how his life would probably be if he hadn’t met Gee in that bar. He’d never have looked twice at Gerard, and that’s what really gets him. He’d never have said one word to Gerard, he’d never have met Mikey or Ray, Pete never would have met Mikey, and the very idea of it actually makes him feel sad and desperately thankful for the way that everything actually did turn out. 

Even though it’s been only a few days, Frank can already look back at lunch and feel a million times lonelier in those memories than when he sits with Gerard, Mikey and Ray. There’s only three people fewer and yet it feels like the whole world has grown smaller. Frank’s really falling too hard too quickly, and it’s a shame that he hasn’t even gotten Gerard to give him the time of day yet. 

“You’re planning something, I know you are,” Gerard says, “you’re very obvious about it.”

“Okay, so like, basically, Mikey needs me to explain a few things to him, which I’m going to do, but in order to do that, I’ve got to like, give him some context and part of that context includes the reality that he’s in love with Pete.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘in love,’” Gerard says, “I mean it’s not like they’re going to marry each other or anything.”

Frank frowns, because he’s not so sure about that one at all. How does he respond to that? He can’t just say, ‘hey actually, they are going to get married and also so are we, you may now kiss the groom.’

“Yeah, you’re totally right,” Frank says, “they’re not going to get married. I mean seriously, what are the odds of anybody in this school marrying the person they’re dating right now?” Frank then proceeds to laugh awkwardly, turn pink, and cover his face with his hand.

“Okay then,” Gerard says, doing his best to pretend that he doesn’t even know that Frank’s there, which would be preferable to the both of them right about now. 

In the end, Frank’s not very good at talking to Gerard today, because his hearts beating way too fast for his own liking, from the fear of what he’s dug himself into. He’s built a hole in which he’s going to have to tell Mikey _something_. He doesn’t want to, but he feels like he kind of has to and he’s really just super pissed at himself for saying anything. He should’ve kept his mouth shut and just blamed Ray. That’s what he should’ve done. He should have told Mikey that Ray had told him, and let Ray deal with the consequences of his lying. Except Frank’s too good a person to do that and he hates himself everyday because of it. 

Really, Frank never thought he would reach a time in his life where he considered himself to be more awkward than he was during puberty, but if anything parallels that, it’s this. 

The day then drags past Frank very slowly. He’s not able to focus on much of anything, and it’s almost a surprise to him when he finds himself standing in front of his own locker, watching Mikey bicker with Frank’s locker neighbor about the fact that he’s leaning against her locker. 

“Mikey, just move,” he says, rolling his eyes, and pulling his backpack out of his own locker.

“Ugh, fine,” Mikey groans, and he lets her go about her business, but only with a scowl on his face. Frank can very definitely see the little brother in Mikey at this, and tries to ignore it. For the most part, he and Gerard seem to have a better relationship than most other siblings that Frank is aware of, but then again, there is still some annoying sibling bleeding off of Mikey’s personality. Frank wonders how he’d be if he’d had a brother or a sister. Probably the worst brother ever, and he’s kind of proud of that. Frank is already a menace, and that would only double with siblings. To be fair, his mom really lucked out there.

“How do you even have a car? Is this what it’s like being a single child? Cars? I want to be a single child someday,” Mikey groans.

“I just have a rich aunt,” Frank shrugs.

“Ugh, I want a rich aunt. All I have is an aunt who smells like cornflakes,” Mikey says. 

Conversation with Mikey is interesting to say the least. Frank’s not sure how he does it, because he doesn’t actually say a whole lot, but he manages to get Frank to basically recite his life story in the span of about ten minutes on the drive to his house. Maybe it’s his choice of filler words, or maybe he’s just an actual wizard, but Frank is kind of wary of his power. Something tells him he’s one guy you wouldn’t want to be on the bad side of. And the same thing kind of rings true for his brother, because if you’re on his bad side, it makes it all the more difficult to get him to fall in love with you. Or at least, that’s what Frank’s experience suggests.

Eventually, he pushes Mikey up the stairs, says a quick hello and explanation to his mother and then slams his door shut with a mildly panicked heartbeat as he tries to pull his thoughts together. 

“Okay so there’s really only about three things that can happen here,” Mikey starts, “The first is that you’re actually not lying and are going to show me whatever proof you have of how you know about Gerard’s crush. The second is that you’re trying to seduce me, and I wouldn’t blame you, but it really won’t help in your efforts to get Gerard. Last is that you’re going to attempt to murder me but will then find out that trying to murder me is not a good idea and you will instead find yourself murdered.”

“Yeah, so it’s the first one,” Frank says.

“Darn, well I guess that makes things a bit less interesting, doesn’t it?”

“Uh, not really,” Frank replies, “wait till I show you what it is that you’ve gotta see.”

“I’m on pins and needles,” Mikey says sardonically, sitting down on the side of Frank’s bed, even though Frank did not actually tell him he could. He would’ve offered him a seat, his mother raised him that way, but he would at least liked to have been given the chance to act polite. Then again, questioning Mikey seems pointless. 

“Uh, okay, so,” Frank says, shuffling awkwardly to his desk, and pulling the letter out of the drawer on the bottom where he used to keep his copies of totally-not-stolen-what-are-you-talking-about magazines which he would draw moustaches on. To be fair, they were just taken from doctor and dentist offices, so who’s really going to miss them? And why on earth should Frank miss out on the golden opportunity to give Meghan Trainor demon eyes, and Tom Cruise some Mutton Chops. Frank has a strange form of entertainment, yes, but he could be disemboweling people instead, so he thinks he’s made a good life choice. 

“Well, the thing is that this is really, well, it explains everything,” Frank says, “it explains all that there is to know about what’s going on, but the thing is, um, it’s crazy. None of this makes any sense, and you might think I’m mad, but, like, you just gotta hear everything out, and keep an open mind.” 

“Uh, alright,” Mikey answers.

“Yeah, okay so, well, there’s also some stuff about you in there, and fuck, I’m probably not supposed to be show you this, because I think it’s supposed to stay between me and, uh Gerard, but like, well, it’s too late now isn’t it.”

“Why the hell are you being so cryptic? You got me alone just to show me a letter?” Mikey asks, waving the papers about too precariously and Frank suddenly feels like he’s hanging a baby out the window with how he’s treating that letter, because to him, it’s too special. It needs to be put in a frame and hung in the Louvre. 

“Okay, could you like, treat that like it’s special, because it _is_ special,” Frank says. Mikey frowns at him, giving him a stink eye, and just for show he makes a display of waving it about and Frank is going to smack it away from him if he keeps that up.

“So what even is this?” Mikey says, and looks down at the first sheet of paper. “Wait, this is Gerard’s handwriting?” 

“Yeah, it, uh, should be,” Frank says. 

“Alright fine,” Mikey rolls his eyes, “I’ll look at it, gimme a few minutes.”

Frank nods, and then walks over to his desk chair and sits down, at the edge of it, barely even aware of his own fast heartbeat. He concentrates his attention on his toes rather than on looking at the look on Mikey’s face as he reads. He doesn’t want to see the disbelieving look. 

“What the...?” Mikey says, and Frank’s not even sure where in the letter he is. That could come from literally anywhere. It’s a weird note. You don’t usually read a letter from your future older brother that was written to his future husband. It’s just not a common predicament. 

“But this is Gerard’s handwriting,” Mikey mumbles, and Frank doesn’t respond, because he thinks that he must be talking to himself. 

Mikey’s a quicker reader than Frank, because he’s in the middle of reciting what he’s practically memorized of the letter in his head when Mikey looks up and stares at Frank in disbelief.

“What the fuck?” Mikey asks.

“You think I’m crazy?”

“What the hell happened to my eyebrows?” Mikey says instead as an answer which makes Frank give him a disbelieving look, because seriously, _that’s_ what he’s taken from the letter? Not the fact that Frank marries Gerard or that he marries Pete, but that he burned off his eyebrows?

“Seriously?” Frank asks. 

“Can I see these pictures?” Mikey asks. “Gerard mentions pictures, where are they?”

“Uh, they’re uh,” Frank sighs, standing up, and he walks over to his bed, reaching under the pillow for where he’s been keeping the pictures.

“Oh you keep them under your pillow, that’s creepy,” Mikey says, “Do I need hand sanitizer after I touch those?”

“Oh grow up!” Frank says, grabbing the pictures and handing them to Mikey. He puts his hands all over them, smudging the gloss and Frank has to breathe deeply to not yank his hair out or punch Mikey in the face. 

“Whoa,” Mikey says, “so like, this is serious isn’t it?” 

“What?” Frank asks, “You believe this?”

“Well, I read the note,” Mikey shrugs, “it seems legit enough.”

“Oh my god,” Frank says emphatically, “so you believe me? I’m not crazy?”

Mikey shrugs, “I grew up with Gerard. Honestly, nothing is unbelievable if you grow up on comic books, horror movies, sci-fi, and that show with the phone booth.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Frank replies.

“It was just a British show that was really good and then got taken over by the worst writer on the planet. Gerard complains about it every day. You’re going to have to get used to that if you’re going to marry him.”

“That’s fine,” Frank says, “what really matters is that you believe me! I don’t need to internally combust by myself anymore, because now I can talk to you, right?”

“Sure...?”

“That’s fucking fantastic. I love you Mikey. But not, because I love your brother, obviously. And he’s going to love me too. Just you wait.”

“Yeah, you’re not obsessed or anything,” Mikey says sarcastically, and Frank would argue if he had any basis to refute that, which he does not. He is somewhat obsessed. He doesn’t know how else to address this situation other than with blazing, somewhat creepy passion. 

“So what about, uh, Pete?” Frank asks with trepidation. He doesn’t know how to approach that subject subtly. 

“What about me and Pete?” Mikey asks.

“You did get to the part about you and him, right?” Frank asks.

“Yes,” Mikey replies, not blinking. 

“What do you think about that?” Frank asks again.

Mikey shrugs, “Makes sense. Thought he seemed a little different. Guess it’s because I like him. I just thought I was catching a cold.”

Frank stares back at Mikey in awe, trying to figure out if that was a joke or if he honestly is that unaware of his own emotions. Mikey is rather enigmatic, it could really be either, and Frank doesn’t know him well enough to pinpoint exactly which sounds more true. 

“Really?” Frank asks.

Mikey shrugs again, and that’s almost in and of itself, an emotion. 

“So, uh, now that you know everything, can you help me out more with Gerard maybe?” Frank asks nervously.

“I suppose so. I mean, I guess I have an obligation to now, don’t I? Why’d you have to rope me into all of this, now I have to pretend that I care,” Mikey groans.

“Do you need any help with Pete?”

“What? No way,” Mikey says, “I’m not as helpless as you are, I don’t need any help.”

“I would be offended but I don’t think that it would be warranted. I mean after all I can barely look at Gerard without tripping over myself, I need you there to stop me from accidentally drown myself in my own drool.”

“Gross,” Mikey says, “so I guess this makes sense as to why you were all weird on him the other day. Did you sleep with my brother? Or the future version of my brother, I mean?”

“What? No! Maybe. Yes. No. I did. Don’t tell him, it’d freak him out. Your brother was very good looking, I’m only a mere mortal, and he was hot. I just. No, never mind. I didn’t sleep with him. Nope.”

Mikey says again, “Gross.”

“I’m sorry. I’m nervous. I tend to rant when I’m nervous. And when I’m not nervous. I just tend to rant,” Frank says.

“Yeah, like Gerard said,” Mikey waves the letter around again which makes Frank’s chest cramp with nerves, because he’s going to tear it or smudge something and then the world might as well be over. “He’s probably the only person who talks more than you. And boy can he talk. And talk. And talk. And _talk_. He never shuts up, oh my god, good luck with him, I pity you.”

“I pity you too,” Frank says, with absolute seriousness, because oh god handling Pete sounds arduous. It’s like raising a child. Pete is himself just a small man-child. 

“Well that’s settled then,” Mikey says, throwing the letter over to the other side of the bed, which means that Frank can grab it, flatten it out, and then hide it in his drawer. He really would frame it, that’s not past him, but he worries about how tacky it would be because it’s three pages, and double sided, so how would he go about it? See, when they were writing up the Declaration of Independence, they put so much more thought into it, because they made sure that it all fit on one side so that it could be put in a museum and they also made sure to put the secret treasure map on the back for Nicholas Cage to find one day. If only Gerard had been that strategic. 

“So we have a deal on that thing where we lure Gerard, I mean _get_ , lure sounds a little perverse, Gerard to the book store so that I can make him fall in love with me?” Frank asks hopefully.

“I guess,” Mikey shrugs. 

“Oh fuck yeah,” Frank says, “I’m getting closer!”

“Whatever,” Mikey sighs, and really, that feels like an emotional response from Mikey. It’s not that he has no emotions, he just seems very contained with the emotions that he does have. And Frank still is slightly terrified that he’s going to kill him and get away with it. But he supposes that that’s just the risk he has to take for Gerard, and Gerard is certainly worth brutal murder. Or at least, you know, _probably_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey cutie you should consider commenting.


	18. Earl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the ultimate king of the dicks is crowned.

It’s Thursday morning when Frank finds himself scowling at his reflection in the mirror. A stress zit. He’s got a motherfucking stress zit in the middle of his forehead. This always happens too, whenever he’s trying to not look like a greasy teenager with acne everywhere, he turns into a greasy teenager with acne right in your fucking face, practically screaming for attention. He can’t even part his hair one way or another to hide it. 

This is what begins the story of Frank ‘borrowing’ concealer from his mom’s room. She won’t notice. At least hopefully. They’ve got the same skin tone, so it’s all good. 

Frank wants to look, at the very least, not completely stupid in front of Gerard. He wants to be cool. He wants to be suave and win that son of a bitch over, and he can’t do that if he’s got a giant fucking pimple on his face. 

Frank hates his life, and he does not care if he’s being overdramatic, because he has a pimple and sometimes he’s allowed to be a drama queen. He does still do his best to make his fringe cover everything, just to be safe. 

If he weren’t trying to get a boy to like him, honestly he wouldn’t care. Frank just wouldn’t give a shit, but since he is trying to get a guy to like him, he wants to look like a million bucks. He wants to make straight guys question their sexuality. He wants to stop cars. He can do none of those things, not even on a good day, but at least no one’s ever puked after looking at him. Really, that’s the best you can ask for. 

Frank, because he’s apparently deaf is almost surprised to look out the window a few minutes later to see the entire contents of the ocean pouring from the sky. Accompanying the downpour is thunder with a flash or two of lightning. The last time they had a full on thunderstorm, Gee was there. Frank gets this moping feeling in his stomach as he looks out at the rain and remembers that.

He remembers everything too well, and yet he doesn’t feel like he remembers enough. He doesn’t remember what he was wearing. He doesn’t remember what he drank, or what was playing on the small TV above the bar. He doesn’t remember what the woman who sat three seats down from him looked like. He remembers precisely what Gee was wearing though. He remembers everything, right down to the last strand of hair. 

If Frank could, he would paint that exact image on his bedroom ceiling, but he thinks his mom would probably kill him and also Gerard would probably be freaked the hell out by him, so it’s really just not a good idea. But a boy can dream.

Frank neglects to leave the house for as long as he can put it off, but he’s going to miss the bell if he stays like this. He just doesn’t want to go outside in that weather. There’s nothing he can do though, it’s too short a walk to his car to grab an umbrella, and you end up getting soaked when you try to close the umbrella in the car, and you can’t open the umbrella inside the house either because that’s insanely bad luck, so he just puts his hood up and runs for it. Frank isn’t superstitious, but he already has a stress zit, so he shan’t test the fates. 

Frank ends up being extraordinarily late for school, but that’s fine because everyone else is late too. The doors are open which is fortunate, but the parking lot is crammed with basically everyone at school, their cousin, their cousins best friend, their cousins best friends aunt’s entire bingo group, and the entire country of Canada. It actually takes him nearly ten minutes to get a parking spot which is nearly a football field away from the actual school, and Frank’s whole umbrella dilemma led him to have forgotten it at home.

Frank wants into school about twenty minutes after the first bell rang completely drenched. He would be dryer if he’d swam in a pool for three hours. Frank could not weigh any more than he does right now, he’s sure the weight of his clothes could sink a large ship. He’s basically miserable and any attempt to hide the gigantic skin mutant on his forehead is now down the drain. His hair is plastered to his forehead though, possibly hiding it from view, so maybe it’s not all bad.

Frank can already tell that school is going to be miserable today. He’s already late for class, though people are still coming in through the doors behind him so he kind of doubts that he’s going to be the only person who’s late, but his teacher is a wanker and any excuse to give him a tardy is up for grabs. And Frank really can’t get another tardy for History because then he’ll have a detention. Eventually he settles on skipping it altogether and he’ll forge a doctor’s note to give Mr. Disachio, or as he likes to call him, Douche-achio, tomorrow. Frank then waddles his way to the boy’s locker room to stand under a hair dryer for an hour.

Three periods later, Frank grumbles to himself in the cafeteria across from a heavily disheveled looking Pete. Literally no one is on their best game today it seems. At least he’s somewhat dry though. He’d had to ring his clothes out and he severely abused the dryers in the locker room, but now he’s not freezing cold and dripping water everywhere. His shoes are miserable though, he couldn’t dry those off enough in the time allotted. They make a squidgy sound whenever he moves them and he can feel water soaking into his socks maniacally with every single step.

“Dude, so, I don’t mean to alarm you, but you have a goblin growing out of your forehead,” Pete says.

“I’m aware,” Frank replies, “your hair is flat.”

“Don’t remind me,” Pete says. He did go through a phase where he worshipped a hair straightener until Brendon and Frank were able to convince him that he looked like an imbecile. He still does but now he has better hair. 

“Where the fuck is the water even coming from,” Brendon says a minute later, slamming a lunch tray onto the table. Frank eyes him worriedly, because he doesn’t know what crawled into Brendon’s brain and made him think it was a good idea to buy a school lunch. Unless he’s really anxious to get food poisoning. 

“Why are you-” Frank starts to ask.

“My bag fell apart,” Brendon says, before Frank can even finish. “Literally just collapsed on itself. This is what you get for using a paper bag.”

“Well at least you’ve given the squirrels a nice snack,” Pete shrugs. 

“I hope they enjoy my soggy goldfish.”

“Ew,” Frank makes a face, “soggy goldfish.” 

“Whoa, dude,” Brendon starts, pointing at Frank.

“Yes I know, okay! I can’t just make it go away, and absorb it back into my skin. I would if I could, but it’s a part of me now, you’ll all just have to live with it.”

“I’m naming it Earl,” Pete states. 

“Who’s named Earl?” Ray says sitting down.

“Frank’s pimple.”

Ray looks at him, double takes like he’s just seen a ghost and Frank mentally flips off Satan or whoever is the cause of the damn thing.

“Yes, yes I get it. I have a sentient pimple, haha, very funny,” Frank frowns, combing his hair out the best that he can, which covers up his eyes, but he’s not sure that that’s any worse. Either he can have a gigantic eye sore in the middle of his face or a bad hair day, and he’s compelled by the latter. 

Frank hears rather than sees two more people sit down, he assumes its Mikey and Gerard, but his hair is in the way of everything.

“Should I even ask?” Mikey questions, presumably in reference to Frank.

“He’s got a pimple the size of Mars,” Pete says.

“Now Pete, don’t say that,” Brendon says, “More like the size of Jupiter if you ask me.”

“It’s not _that_ bad,” Ray says, not sounding too convinced with himself.

“I wanna see,” Mikey says, and before Frank can stop him he’s all hands on, pulling Frank’s hair out of his face. 

“Oh come on!” He shouts when he hears Gerard snort, and Frank pulls his hair back in place, turning a pink that would make Kirby feel bad about himself.

“This is what I get from the people who are supposed to be my friends. You all are gigantic dicks.” 

“As long as I’m king of the dicks,” Pete says. “King Dick. Your Royal Majesty of Dicks.”

“Why do you get to be king of the dicks, I wanna be king of the dicks,” Brendon replies.

“I called it first,” Pete replies.

“Yeah, but I didn’t know we were calling things so I demand a do-over.”

“The court’s denying you a retrial, I’m sorry to say,” Pete says.

“Fuck you, I, damn, I hate you. Well fine then, if you’re king of the dicks, I’m god of the dicks.”

“What? No, that’s so not fair,” Pete says, and thus ensues a long, almost too realistic fight, like it’s not even fake, about who gets to be what deity in the land of dicks. 

Frank is rolling his eyes to the sound of the two of them bickering when he has the realization that Gerard didn’t correct him. Frank said that they were his friends and Gerard didn’t correct him. Maybe it slipped his mind. Maybe Brendon and Pete interrupted him. Maybe Frank’s not being delusional and he considers Frank to be a friend. His luck isn’t that good, he knows it isn’t. But Frank hasn’t opened any umbrellas indoors today so maybe he’s not as unlucky as he was thinking. 

“I don’t know how it’s possible for two people that dumb to actually exist,” Mikey says, “oh god that’s my future.”

“It is,” Frank nods, “you’re going to marry that.”

“Oh god, is it too late to change everything?”

“I mean, you don’t have to go for him if you don’t want-”

“No!” Mikey says, too hurriedly, “I mean, he’s an idiot, and like, but he’s not... I don’t know. I mean it could be worse. You know. Like I could be you.”

“I happen to like being me. Except for, well, certain facial blemishes aside, I still like where I stand on my future and stuff. I could’ve done way worse.”

“You really couldn’t have,” Mikey says, looking at Gerard from across the table, who’s watching Pete and Brendon with unwavering interest like he expects something philosophical to come from this debate. “Nope, you really really couldn’t have. You know he doesn’t close drawers? He just opens them and never ever closes them. Ever. He is incapable of closing a cabinet door or drawer. And I’m taller than he is mind you so if he isn’t bothered by a tall drawer than I’m left to just fucking face plant it.”

“Okay, but I’m only two feet tall,” Frank says, “I’ve never run into anything low hanging in my entire life. I would consider a hobbit hole to be roomy.”

“Yes, but you don’t know what hell it is to take a drawer to the crotch.” 

“I guess I’ve gotta give you that one,” Frank says, having never had that experience, and not anxious to try it out. 

“Ugh, Mikey are you complaining about the drawers thing again?” Gerard asks, apparently pulled away from the enrapturing argument that’s now devolved into Pete thinking that Brendon is ‘a dickbreathing spunkstain’ and Frank would really care not to know the details of that.

“It’s literally ridiculous! It takes like a second to push a drawer in, and less time to close a cabinet drawer. It’s not that hard, I mean come on,” Mikey says to him.

“Mikey, you’re blowing things out of proportion,” Gerard replies.

“I have a bruise on my fucking knee from the drawer in your room!”

“Okay, but it’s in my room, I don’t need to close it if it’s in my room. Like, maybe in the kitchen, but my room is where I get to make the rules.”

“Do you see what I have to put up with?” Mikey asks, turning to Frank emphatically.

“Pete borrowed my stapler three years ago and never gave it back,” Frank says.

“You can live with that though, it’s not like you’re physically attacked by cabinets every other day,” Mikey shrugs.

“Pete borrowed my copy of Independence Day and never gave it back.”

“It has Jeff Goldblum in it, can you really blame him?”

“Pete borrowed my headphones and never gave them back.”

“Well did you ever _ask_ for them back?” Mikey questions.

“It was implied.”

“It wasn’t implied if you didn’t ask him to return them to you promptly,” Mikey says.

“Why are you defending him?”

“Mikey’s in wuv,” Gerard teases.

“I’m not even going to reply to a statement as stupid as that.” Mikey then looks at Pete, and Frank looks at him looking at Pete, and Gerard looks at Frank looking at Pete, so it’s just a weird cycle of them all swooning over or judging each other. Frank’s certainly not swooning over Mikey. It’s not that he doesn’t have a nice face it’s just that he’s Mikey and Gerard is the love of Frank’s life.

“Go suck on a tree branch,” Pete can be heard saying followed by the perfectly appropriate ‘what the fuck does that even mean?’

“Your future,” Frank whispers in Mikey’s ear. 

“Drawers, Frank. Drawers,” Mikey says as a response. 

Gerard looks at the two of them obliviously, blissfully unaware of how the two of them are in cahoots to get he and Frank to suck face, among other things.

“We all have to accept certain vices,” Frank shrugs.

“But at what cost?” Mikey asks.

“Sanity,” Frank replies.

“Sounds like a fair deal,” Mikey sighs, staring at Pete a little contemptuously, like he’s angry that Pete’s not noticing his advances and welcoming them with open arms. Frank can’t help but look similarly at Gerard, but softer because it’s hard not to love that face. That cute face that Frank wants to punch and then make out with. Or make out with and then punch. Or skip the making out and just punch. Or skip the punching and just make out. Frank can’t figure out what he wants from the guy but either way he wants it to involve no clothes. 

Mikey looks at Frank for a second analytically before saying, “Your zit is staring me right in the face, man. It’s looking into my soul.”

“Oh fuck off,” Frank says, patting his hair down once again.

“ _You_ fuck off. I hate you, Oreo,” Mikey shakes his head, “this is all your damn fault.”

“I know,” Frank frowns, “isn’t it just the most painful thing in the world to like someone who’s a complete idiot and doesn’t realize you like them?”

“Yes,” Mikey replies.

“Welcome to my hell bro, I hope you buckled in tight, because it’s going to be one hell of a ride.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment maybe?


	19. The Smoldering Batman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think my love of Neil Gaiman floods into everything I write.

“Why the fuck are you awake?” Brendon groans at him.

“Because I am,” Frank replies.

“At seven in the morning? On a weekend? Are you insane? Why did you call me? Who uses phones to call each other? What year are you from?”

“The nineties, just, okay, hear me out,” Frank replies.

“I just wanna go back to bed,” Brendon says groggily. “Whatever you have to say had better be fucking good, because if not then I will make a Frank Iero Sim and I will kill him.”

“Okay so Mikey is gonna lure Gerard to the book store, you know the one, and I’m going to bump into them, but I don’t wanna be the loser who’s there by himself, so like, I was wondering if you were available maybe?”

“Ugh, did you ask Pete?” Brendon asks.

“I- he didn’t answer his phone,” Frank replies.

“Great so I’m your second choice.”

“His name just came up first in my contacts.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone as Brendon leaves that in the air and then resumes to say, “You’re saying Pete came before Brendon. In a list that’s sorted alphabetically.”

“It’s by last name.”

“You’re saying Wentz came before Urie. In a list that’s sorted alphabetically. Really? Really, Frank?”

“Okay fine, in my contacts I address you as Asshole and Bigger Asshole, are you happy now?” 

“Does that make me Bigger Asshole?” Brendon asks.

“Yes,” Frank replies.

“And you want me to help you out?” he asks.

“Yes,” Frank repeats.

“What’s in it for me?”

“The satisfaction of knowing that you’ve helped me win over Gerard?” Frank offers.

“Yeah, I don’t really want that.”

“Fine. I’ll buy you a coffee.”

“And...?”

“And what?” Frank asks, “I’m broke. I can’t buy you anything that costs any more than five bucks.” 

“Just one thing,” Brendon says.

“And what is that?”

“I wanna be the best man at your wedding,” Brendon says.

“Okay, I think you’re thinking a little too far into the future,” Frank says, even though it’s not unreasonable to ask that knowing what it is that Frank knows, but Brendon doesn’t know what he does.

“Well dude, if you marry Gerard, Mikey is going to be your best men at the wedding, if you don’t marry Gerard, the most likely option, Pete’s going to be your best man, and at Pete’s wedding, you’re going to be his best man, I just want to be the best man at one of them, I mean, I feel I’m owed that.”

“How do you even know that I’m going to know you then? I could ditch you in college,” Frank says. “Make better friends.”

“It could happen, but you don’t have any money and I need to get something out of you,” Brendon replies.

“Ugh, fine,” Frank groans, “you can be my best man, but you’re going to have to deal with Pete if he finds out about that.”

“I’ve always wanted an excuse to fight him. It’s jousting at the crack of dawn, I’m going to take that bitch down.”

“You are so weird,” Frank says.

“Yeah so when are you meeting him?” 

“Oh, uh...” Frank starts.

“Oh god, when?”

“Two,” Frank mumbles.

“You called me at seven in the morning for a thing that’s going to happen at two in the afternoon?” Brendon asks, his anger very obvious.

“Maybe.”

“You’re such a twat,” Brendon replies before hanging up. 

“Could’ve been worse,” Frank says to himself and looks around his room nervously. 

Frank hasn’t gotten any sleep, sick with anticipation. He’s terrified that he’s going to screw something up, because he’s finally got an opportunity to hopefully get Gerard to fall in love with him. Or at least maybe cool down how much he pretends to hate him.

Frank looks around his room with dread. He’s excited, nervous, and painfully anxious. He doesn’t know how to waste what feels like thirty hours until Mikey said he would get Gerard out of the house. Apparently Gerard hasn’t done anything on the weekend for the past five years except for play video games and occasionally sing incredibly loudly in the shower. In Frank’s personal opinion, that sounds absolutely fantastic and he could get used to living like that.

Frank ends up spending an hour trying to convince himself to get out of bed. After he does get out of bed, he sneaks out of his room, grabs a pop tart and runs back up because he’s not sociable yet. He rereads Gee’s letter for what’s probably the five thousandth time, and most of his warning wastes away as he tries to will himself to get up and take a shower. He needs to smell nice for his not-a-date, but he’s still going to tell their kids about it and say it was their first date. Unless it’s a complete disaster, but he’s hopeful. 

Usually time tends to slow down around Frank, but today, the hours fly past him so fast he’s sure that he’s being tricked by some sort of mass clock failure. That doesn’t turn out to be so though, and he does end up picking up a very disgruntled looking Brendon a short time later.

“What are you going to say to get him to fall in love with you?” Brendon asks.

“Uh, Star Wars,” Frank says, “lots and lots of Star Wars. That’s my biggest talking point, because there’s nothing I know more about than Star Wars.”

“Is that it?”

“We could literally spend years talking about Star Wars. We could spend four hours discussing who shot first.”

“Okay Frank, it’s been like forty years, everyone knows it was Han. It’s not even a debate anymore.”

“It’s still a debate, I will not give up on this,” Frank says.

“You’re such an idiot,” Brendon says shaking his head. “God, why can’t Pete be here instead of me?”

“He’s too busy to answer my phone calls,” Frank frowns, “Such a shame because he and Mikey could have made googley eyes at each other.” 

“Both of you are gross. Why can’t I just have not insane friends who don’t drool over everybody?”

“We’re going to end up marrying those boys, I swear to god,” Frank says.

“Yeah right,” Brendon scoffs.

“It’s true!” he insists.

“You wanna make that a bet?” Brendon says.

Frank gets an evil little glimmer in his head before he says, “yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Frank replies, “I think I could make it happen that we both end up with them. I’m actually sure of it. I would be willing to bet a very large amount of money.”

“You’re in denial,” Brendon shakes his head. “It’s not even likely that _one_ of you is going to marry someone you met in high school and you think you two are going to marry _brothers_? I need to hire a statistician to show you how unbelievable and dumb that idea is.”

“I’m an optimist.”

“You’re a surrealist,” Brendon replies.

“Shut up, we’re here,” Frank says, pulling into a parking spot.

“When are they going to be here?” Brendon asks.

“Mikey said he’ll text me. We have to ‘run into them’ wherever they keep the Dungeons and Dragons books, which, I’ll be honest, I didn’t even know existed.”

“And that’s what you want to marry? A guy who invests more in Dungeons and Dragons than he does in soap?” 

“I... you’re a dick,” Frank says, unbuckling, and pulling himself out of the car. “Oh and before I forget, how much are you actually willing to bet that both me and Pete end up with Gerard and Mikey.”

“Well I’m assuming that we’re going to have real money in the future, so it could be real money. What do you want to go for?” 

“You could pay our kid’s future college tuition,” Frank suggests.

“So in this future did I happen to win the lottery? Like four times?” Brendon asks. “Or do you really want your kid to go to school in a shoe box?”

“I’m assuming that someday school tuition fees will be more logical than they are now.”

“How about we go for just a hundred bucks,” Brendon says.

“That seems like a very small amount of money for someone who’s got three kids, five hundred dogs, and a husband to spoil.”

“ _Three_ kids?” Brendon asks emphatically as he slams the car door shut, and drags his feet up the sidewalk.

“I love how you focus on the three kid’s thing and not the five hundred dogs.”

“I expect that from you,” Brendon says, “but three sounds like a lot of human beings to be held accountable for.”

“And five hundred dogs isn’t as much work?”

“Well dogs are way easier,” Brendon says as they walk over to the book store, Frank almost having to be pulled away from the lure of the smell of the coffee store. They’ve really done a good job at making this hipster corner, because on the other side of the book store is a candle shop. Frank’s not sure what’s so special about candles that can’t be bought in a Bed Bath and Beyond, but he’s not an expert on that sort of thing anyway. 

“Okay yeah, dogs are totally easy,” Frank says, rolling his eyes.

“Dude, dogs may need to be walked and shed everywhere, and giving them a bath is hell, and they’re just overall hard work, but you don’t have to pay for furniture, school fees, dentists and orthodontists, they’ll probably need braces because they have dumb crooked teeth, and they’ll need lunch money, school supplies, clothes, and expensive food because they always want chicken nuggets and refuse to eat anything that has a foreign word in it, and they’ll want the newest technology and they’re basically just gigantic assholes.”

“You sound like a father of twelve who hasn’t had a day off in fifty years,” Frank says, as he pulls open the door to the bookstore, which has this awfully stale ambiance which necessitates that everyone whisper everything they say, which makes the whole building feel overwhelmingly creepy. But they do have a very large collection of rare prints and a senile store owner who will gift you a book if you pay in two dollar bills. The problem is that no one has two dollar bills, so people very rarely get free books. 

“Sometimes I feel like I am,” Brendon says, looking off into the distance wistfully. 

“You need to dial down the Sims, Bren.”

“I’m sorry,” Brendon says, “I just had a grandchild. I’m very emotional.”

“What’s the grandkids name?” Frank asks. 

“Unfortunately, I ran out of celebrities with the last name of Simpson. So I named him Orange Juice.”

“Orange Juice?”

“It was the alternative to calling him OJ.”

Frank nods, “I see. Wise decision.”

Brendon nods, doing his best to inconspicuously steer them towards the children’s section, not because he _is_ a child, but because he has the _mind_ of a child. And he really likes Shel Silverstein. 

“Ugh, I don’t wanna be here,” Brendon groans, “I don’t want to be dragged to all your weird creepy romancing escapades.” 

“Romancing escapades,” Frank repeats, “that is a hell of an alternative over the word wooing.” He then shivers and makes a gagging sound at the very thought of the word. 

“You can have that off me if you like, as long as I get your fruit roll up at lunch on Monday.” 

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Frank says, eyeing a girl across the aisle from them who’s very obviously looking at Brendon’s ass, and it’s too shameless to even earn a judgmental glare from him. 

“You’ve got a fan,” Frank says, nodding toward the girl to Brendon, who’s too entranced apparently to notice.

“Well what else is new,” Brendon shrugs, pretending to be completely nonchalant about it, but Frank knows that he’s secretly forcing himself not to look because he likes to remain ‘cool.’

Frank’s phone buzzes and he jumps at the sound of it, “oh they’re here.” He looks down at his phone only to realize it’s not Mikey texting him at all. “Never mind. Pete wants to know what the capital of Luxembourg is.”

“I don’t know if you should break it to him or not that the capital of Luxembourg, is in fact, Luxembourg.”

“I’ll tell him that it’s Estonia,” Frank shrugs, “just to mess with him.”

“That’ll teach him not to ignore your calls,” Brendon says.

“Exactly,” Frank says, texting Pete, and hoping to himself that Pete’s not doing some sort of geography assignment. He’s an asshole, but he doesn’t want to be the asshole that makes Pete get a bad grade. But if he’s dumb enough not to know that Estonia is a country then maybe he deserves a bad grade.

Barely a minute later, Frank actually does get a text from Mikey and that’s when his internal organs actually do turn to chalk. 

“Oh my god, they’re here,” Frank says, “but like actually this time.”

“Dandy,” Brendon says, looking completely apathetic, and Frank is likely to smack him. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He doesn’t know how to stand or where to look, or how to act natural. He doesn’t want Gerard to know that this was all planned, he wants it to feel organic, but he’s suddenly forgotten how he normally acts and he now feels like a person on a TV show who is told to act natural and then strikes the most unnatural pose humanly possible. 

“Frank, you look like you’re about to shit yourself, calm your tits,” Brendon says.

“I don’t know how,” Frank responds pleadingly. 

“Well for starters you look like a store front mannequin,” Brendon says, and tries to reposition Frank’s arms not to look like he’s posing for Highlights magazine. “And your face says Riddler when it should say smoldering Batman.”

“How’s this?” Frank asks, trying to change his facial expression. 

“I said smoldering Batman, not constipated anime villain.”

“Well what the hell does smoldering Batman even mean?”

“It means to do your best Flynn Rider and hope for the best!” Brendon says, like it’s obvious, which just makes the whole situation a million times more confusing. At least if he were here with Pete, whatever face he’d make would be a million times more idiotic than Frank is even capable of. 

“I hate you so much,” Frank says, shaking his head.

“Yeah whatever, your boyfriend just walked in,” Brendon says, commentating like he’s watching a horse race. Frank refuses to turn around because he doesn’t want to be obvious, so he has to hang on Brendon’s every word.

“He’s looking at the Neil Gaiman display... he’s saying something to Mikey... Mikey’s staring at me like I set fire to a park bench... Gerard is fangirling over Neil Gaiman... Mikey is trying to drag him away... oh, now he’s looking at the Harry Potter display, Mikey just can’t catch a break can he?”

“Has he seen us yet?”

“Nope, I don’t think so, but Mikey sure has,” Brendon says, “Oh wait, they’re getting closer. They’re walking over here, and oh-”

“Frank?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Josh Dun AND Jack Barakat's birthdays to everybody.


	20. Hate/Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete’s in love with Estonia.

“Frank?” Gerard asks, looking directly at Frank which makes his tongue lose all traction and sense.

“Who’s Frank?” Frank asks.

“You’re Frank,” Brendon tells him.

“I’m Frank,” Frank says, like it’s a question.

“I told you to act natural not like you didn’t know who you were,” Brendon says, rolling his eyes, and questioning how he could have possibly gotten himself wrapped up in all of this. 

“Frank, what a crazy random happenstance,” Mikey says, stalely.

“Aren’t you just quoting Dr. Horrible?” Gerard asks him, looking at Mikey quizzically.

“Maybe.”

“Okay so this wasn’t at all staged though was it?” Gerard asks, and Frank turns pink.

“What? Staged? What does that even, uh, mean?” he asks, with a painfully fake laugh that makes Brendon want to crawl under a rock _for_ Frank. 

“Frank, what are you looking for?” Gerard asks.

“What am I what?”

“What book? What book are you looking for?”

“What book...?” Frank repeats suddenly forgetting every book that has ever existed on the face of the planet. He cannot remember a single author, a single book, a single name, a single word, or the name of the planet that he is currently standing on. 

“He’s looking for,” Brendon starts but then seems to have a change of heart in the middle of his sentence and instead says, “nope, not going to try to make an excuse.”

“Thanks,” Frank says, through gritted teeth, “I’m glad I decided to bring you along.”

“Where’s Pete?” Mikey asks, looking around, hoping to find him between the bookshelves, and instead making eye contact with the girl who was, a moment ago staring at Brendon’s ass, but has now moved on to evaluating Gerard, trying to figure out if he’s worthwhile or not, which makes Frank feel like a mother lion protecting his cubs, which is to say he wants to tear her throat out and feed her carcass to the buzzards. 

“He’s better than I am apparently,” Brendon says, “because Frank called him first.”

“I told you, that’s not the reason for why I called him first.”

“Yeah, but who wants to say that they’re referred to as an asshole on their friends phone?”

“Not just an asshole, a big asshole,” Frank corrects.

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah, I can get in on that, fuck you Frank,” Gerard says.

“No, you can’t just get in on my fuck you, you have to get your own,” Brendon says.

“Alright fine. Fuck you Frank,” Gerard says.

“Fair enough,” Frank nods.

“So Pete’s not here?” Mikey asks for clarification.

“No, he’s doing something better,” Brendon replies.

“Are you implying that this isn’t enjoyable?” Frank asks.

“Yes.”

“Well, you’re an asshole and I hate you.”

“Great, so now that that’s clarified, I’m going to walk away,” Gerard says, and he turns on his heels, Frank quick to follow. 

“Why are you following me?” Gerard asks, leading him to the dank and dark corner of the shop where they keep all the old comic books, which just makes Frank make an ‘awwing’ sound internally to himself. He kind of sees watching Gerard as looking at a puppy, because he’s adorable and wants to marry the son of a bitch so much. The feeling he gets in his stomach right now just looking at Gerard is the same one he gets when he watches YouTube videos of cats. He wants to cuddle him so much and be his best friend and love him to death. It’s quite infuriating.

“Because I am,” Frank says.

He looks behind him at Mikey staring at Brendon uncomfortably, and he realizes that the two of them just don’t have that much in common and Mikey is probably angry at Frank for not bringing Pete, but that was never a part of the agreement. 

Frank makes an informed decision at this and looks at Gerard judicially as he gawks at the rows and rows of graphic novels before him.

“I think I should call Pete and get him to come here,” Frank says. “I think then Mikey will stop looking at me like I burned down his house.”

“It might,” Gerard shrugs, and then seems to hear what Frank says, looks up and straight into Frank’s eyes which makes his heart bounce in a way that would seriously worry a nurse and then says, “Definitely do that. I think the only thing that could get that boy to shut up is for you to get Pete to stick his damn tongue in Mikey’s mouth. My god, that is a strange thing to say about my own brother.”

“I’ll call him,” Frank says, nodding, grabbing his phone, and hoping that Pete picks up this time.

When he does pick up, he leads with, “Estonia is not the capital of Luxembourg, Frank. It’s a country, which, according to Wikipedia, is a great place to live, and they have awesome WiFi, which intrigues me and makes me feel bad about the fact that I’ve never heard of it before today.”

Frank covers the phone to say to Gerard, who probably doesn’t care, “I think I may have made Pete the head of the Estonia fan club.”

“Fantastic,” Gerard says, thumbing through something that Frank didn’t get the chance to see the cover of, so he has no idea what it actually is.

“Pete, I just wanted to tell you that we’re all at the book store, and like, Mikey asked about you, so you should-”

“Mikey’s there?” Pete asks. “I, uh, fuck, I haven’t showered today. Uh, no, I’ll just spray myself with Febreze, I’m coming. I’ll be there, just hold on, I’m coming.”

“Oh, okay, so you’re coming?” Frank asks.

“Yeah,” Pete says quickly, “don’t tell Mikey that my mom has to drive me, okay?”

“I mean, I don’t think he’d find it strange that you don’t have a car, Pete.”

“Just don’t tell him, okay!”

“Fine,” Frank says, covers the receiver again and says to Gerard, “be sure to tell Mikey that Pete doesn’t have a car and has to be driven everywhere by his mother.”

“Uh?” Gerard says, and then pretends to have not heard Frank and goes back to his book, which as Frank looks at the page, seems to be about zombies. Frank decides that he has great taste and already plans a date where they’ll watch Dawn of the Dead, followed by the somewhat superior, Shaun of the Dead.

“Okay, Pete, just get here when you can and- Pete? Pete? Did you fucking hang up on me, you fucking dick?” Frank asks, with no response and his eyes turn to slits as he gives the evil stare that he wants to give to Pete to a picture of Guy Fieri on a cookbook in front of him. 

“I’d have hung up to,” Gerard says.

“That bastard. Oh well, whatever. Can I ask you a legit question here, Gee?” 

“What did you just call me?” Gerard asks, looking at Frank like he just called Gerard the worst curse word imaginable. Like Frank just called him a mudblood. 

“Uh, nothing?”

“Never call me that ever again,” Gerard says, and Frank nods nervously and cautiously, because of course, he plans on calling him that again, just not right now maybe. 

“Sorry,” Frank says, feeling like he just got scolded by a teacher. “I still have a question though.”

“Ugh, fine, what is it?”

“It’s just, well, you hate me, right?” He asks, but he doesn’t allow Gerard enough time to answer before saying, “but like, do you hate me hate me, or do you just hate me because you think you should and you’re too full of pride to let that go?”

“Uh, what?” Gerard asks.

“Well, really, what I’m trying to ask is, do you actually hate my personality, or do you just say you hate me because you have a grudge?”

“I-”

“And before you answer that, I want you to actually be honest, because I know if it’s the second one, you’ll say it’s the first one because you just want me to think you hate my guts, but I really don’t think you hate my guts at all, you just want to, but can’t, because I’m fantastic.”

“Modesty? Ever heard of it?”

“I don’t do modesty,” Frank says, “it’s not for me. And don’t deflect the question this time.” 

“Uh, well, when you put it that way, I guess I don’t even know for sure myself. Like, I really do fucking hate you, Frank.”

“Noted.”

“But like, I’m not sure I’ve paid enough attention to you to know if I _hate_ you or not,” Gerard says.

“Okay, well, I’ll tell you what,” Frank says, “I’ll buy you coffee and you tell me how I rank on the personality scale or something and if you still hate me, I’ll never talk to you again.”

“Is that a promise?” Gerard asks.

“Well, I won’t talk to _you_ again, but I can’t make any promises about Ray and Mikey, I mean, they’re sorta my friends now too.”

“Of course there has to be a catch,” Gerard says exasperatedly. “Fine then.”

“Really?” Frank asks.

“Yes, but I’m getting the most expensive coffee I can make,” Gerard says. 

“Uh, that’s fine, yeah, sure. Gotta buy a coffee for Brendon too, and I’m like broke, and I owe my mom like twenty bucks for these concert tickets, but uh, whatever,” Frank says, and thinks to himself ‘who needs college?’ 

“What concert?” Gerard asks.

“What? Oh, uh, what concert? What?”

“The concert?”

“The concert?” Frank repeats.

“Are you just repeating what I’m saying?”

“I... no,” Frank says, shaking his head furiously, embarrassing himself further.

“Okay,” Gerard says, “Forget I asked.”

“Okay so Mikey let slip that your birthday was coming up and he was like ‘hey Frank Gerard likes this one band and they’re playing soon and I was gonna get him tickets but you could do it instead I’ll just buy him a pen or something’ and well Mikey didn’t actually say that last part but like I don’t know what I’m saying but I bought you the tickets and I don’t have any money I had to give my mom the Barnes and Noble gift card that my aunt sends me every Christmas but I never know what to buy so I just have it for like seven months without buying anything and I had to give that to my mom as compensation and I haven’t figured out when to like ask you to the concert because I don’t know how to ask someone that without ranting because I talk a lot like I’m not kidding when I say a lot I mean a lot a lot like a lot a lot so much that people sometimes have to physically restrain my mouth from just ranting on and on and on have you seen that one episode of Friends where Chandler says that and he’s like ‘I just keep talking until someone stops me’ yeah that’s basically me except I have a better haircut but anyway I bought you these tickets and... you’re looking at me kinda funny so I’m going to stop talking.” 

Gerard opens his mouth and it looks like he’s trying to piece together what Frank just said but there were far too many words. 

Frank shakes his head, “I’m an idiot, and you don’t want to go with me, I paid for tickets to a concert before even asking if you wanted to go, and I’m dumb, and this was a dumb idea and I’m-”

“You actually bought me tickets in exchange for a Barnes and Noble gift card?” Gerard asks, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Uh, yes?” Frank says, “Well, some of them anyway, it wasn’t enough to cover the total, but I just told my mom I’d owe her money, so I’ll have to walk a few dogs and mow a few lawns, but it’s fine, like, I mean, I tried I guess, and that’s what matters, but if you want I can just give you the tickets and you can take Mikey, because they’re paid for so they might as well be used, but like, I’m sorry for being such a presumptuous dumbass.”

“That’s actually really nice,” Gerard says in a tone that suggests he’s questioning his own words as he says them, “like really really nice. Like that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“I know and I’m sorry,” Frank says, preemptively responding to what he’d expected Gerard to say and not digesting what exactly it was that he did say, “Wait what was that?”

“It’s just really nice,” Gerard says, and it’s him who’s blushing this time, which makes him blush because he made Gerard blush, and they both look like they got splattered with red paint at this point. 

“Yeah?” Frank asks, looking at his feet because he can’t bear to look at Gerard’s stupidly cute face.

“Yeah,” Gerard nods.

“So, would you, like want to go with me then?” Frank asks, hesitantly, not even aware that he’d decided to ask that at all.

There seems to be a year’s worth of silence as Frank waits for Gerard’s answer, and he can feel his heart full of the mixed emotions of complete and utter terror as well as dread if he says no, and an unbelievable joy if he says yes.

“Well, I’d be the dick if I said no.”

“So that’s a yes?” 

“Yeah, that’s a yes,” Gerard says.

Frank beams at him, his smile literally enough to cure all problems with the universe and Gerard gets a feeling in his stomach at the thought of how much he hates to pretend he hates Frank. He does kind of, but he doesn’t, he adores him. He thinks Frank is easily the cutest guy on the planet and can’t believe the words that he’s hearing from Frank. He’s so stupid. Frank is literally just a complete idiot. It’s the most endearing thing Gerard’s ever experienced and he’s pretty sure he’s crazy about the guy.

Frank could fly himself to another galaxy all by himself with the swelling happiness he feels right now. He knows it’s not official or anything, but he’s fairly sure that he just asked Gerard Way out. He’s not going to call it a date, because he doesn’t want to scare him away, but he’s pretty sure that that’s what just happened. He just asked Gerard Way out on a date, and he said yes. He’s going to take Gerard Way out and they’re going to go to a concert and Frank is going to be poorer than he was before, because he’s going to buy Gerard a T-shirt, or a poster, or one of the band members if he asks for it. 

He’ll buy the guy anything. He’s never wanted to spoil someone this much before. Never in his life has he ever actually had the feeling of wanting to spend more money on someone else then himself. When he gets money, he always wants to buy something for him, and always hates having to spend it on others, but he can’t think of anyone who he just wants to give fucking everything to. He’ll buy him the city of New York, the moon, the rights to Star Wars, an elephant, and the iron throne. He just can’t stand or financially support how much he wants to _give_ Gerard.

“I’m going to buy you that coffee now,” Frank says, and Gerard just nods, bites his lip as he looks at Frank and then quickly looks away. Frank notices it however, and thanks not only God but also Jesus, and most importantly, mikeyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update comes to you from Tennessee which is strange because I am not from nor do I live in Tennessee, but on that note, Tennessee: why so hot? Not okay bro, not okay.


	21. A Grandmother’s Laundry Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where no one would ever possibly make fun of Brendon.

It took Frank all of negative six seconds to convince Brendon to go next door for coffee. It’s almost like their friendship hangs in the balance of the other buying them caffeinated beverages. Which is probably true.

Brendon is practically dragging him to the place, and Frank only barely has enough time to make sure that Gerard is following him before he’s shoved into line. Brendon orders something with too many shots of whatever syrup, and he knows that it will probably taste like liquid sugar, which Frank is honestly not proud to be paying for with his own money. Surprisingly, Gerard’s coffee isn’t as expensive as he’d promised, because he seriously just gets himself a coffee with sugar, and Frank stares at him a little aghast because he’d expected to have to take out a mortgage on his drink.

“You said you were broke...” Gerard says, drifting off and blushing, but Frank doesn’t say anything about it. Mikey tries to trick Frank into paying for him too, but Frank just flicks him in the temple which makes Gerard snort, so Frank decides he’s going to have to do that again. Mikey may, and probably will him, but at least he’ll go out having seen Gerard smiling.

The unfortunate thing that happens is that they all have to get a table, but it’s too awkward for Frank and Gerard to get a table alone so they have to share a table which makes Frank wish Mikey would die in a freak anvil falling from the sky accident. But alas, he does not live in a Warner Brothers cartoon, so no such thing happens. 

“Well,” Brendon says, as a way to break the silence that surrounded them as soon as they sat down. That can mostly be attributed to the fact that they all kind of want to drown themselves in coffee, because as hipster as it is, coffee is what makes the world go round. Aside, maybe, from Hallmark greeting cards.

“Well?” Mikey asks him.

“I don’t know, I was just... we can talk about wells. I mean, how about Lassie?”

Frank looks at him like he grew a second head and kicks him under the table for being an idiot. Frank did at least manage to get himself on the same side of the table as Gerard which is already further than he’s gotten so far, so he’s not complaining. Mikey looks rather, uncomfortable glaring at Brendon with an expression that suits what expression Brendon deserves to have made at him. 

“Yeah, so,” Frank says, “I’m just going to pretend that Brendon doesn’t exist.”

“I don’t blame you at all,” Brendon says, slurping loudly at his cup full of a gooey mass of sugar and the dead dreams of children. 

Mikey nods, looks away from him and at Frank who looks back at him wondering what thoughts he’s reading from Frank’s mind. He’s probably trying to find something juicy that he can use against him some day, and Frank shrugs, because Mikey could probably find out all of his secrets anyway, even if it weren’t for the fact that he is most definitely a mind reader.

Frank can almost feel himself receiving transmitted thoughts from Mikey, like they’re having a completely telepathic conversation.

Somehow, Mikey manages to extract enough to form the statement, “so you told Gerard about the concert then.”

“How do you _do_ that?” Frank asks.

“He’s actually supposed to be in the X-Men, but he doesn’t play well with others so they never sent him his invitation.”

“That explains so much,” Frank says.

“Yeah,” Mikey says, “I’m a mind reader, with a killer Gaydar, and Gerard has the ability to tell if people are left handed or right handed just by looking at them.”

“I have a 70% chance of being right.”

“Without studying them?” Brendon asks.

“Well it wouldn’t be a superpower if I had to watch them first,” Gerard snaps, like Brendon is taking away from his imaginary superpower.

“Well,” Frank says, “I definitely know who I want in my Justice League.”

“What the world really needs is for there to be a guy who stands in a booth at the fair who tells you if you’re right or left handed.”

“I feel like you guys are being a little condescending about my skill, and I don’t appreciate it.”

“Well if it makes you feel any better than my superpower is that I have the ability to turn any and every green light in the world red,” Frank tells him.

“It’s true, I’ve driven with him,” Brendon says.

“And Brendon has an ego the size of Shaq’s feet.”

“Or Shaq’s jacket,” Gerard says.

“Or the shoes that Shaq surely has to have custom made for him.”

“Basically anything to do with Shaq is how big his ego is, and that’s his only superpower,” Mikey summarizes.

“I feel like you guys are making fun of me,” Brendon says.

“What!” Frank gasps, “No! Never.”

“What could possibly make you think that, Brendon?” Gerard asks.

“I’ve never heard such a thing more positively obscene! What a vile, untrue, and completely presumptuous thing to say about us!”

“How dare you.”

“You’re all dicks,” Brendon replies, sulking lower into his chair like it’ll make his ego somehow smaller. “I’m pretty amazing, I don’t know how it is that you guys manage to even notice flaws that I have.”

“See, and it’s words like that which underline how totally ridiculous it is that we would ever dare to make fun of you, oh holy one,” Frank says.

“Your highness,” Gerard adds.

“My liege.”

“Your holiness.”

“Your majesty.”

“Archduke Franz Ferdinand.”

“You win this round, Way,” Frank says, resigning with a sigh. 

Pete’s somewhat under dramatic arrival follows there words shortly. Frank isn’t sure if ‘under dramatic’ is necessarily the right term, or if ‘awkward arrival’ is more fitting. Either way, Pete walks in, trips on the door, makes a short frame of eye contact with Frank full of terror that Mikey had seen that, before he’s turning around, and walking back in in a way that could be considered smoother if you are very bad at reading social situations.

He looks around, pretending to look around the coffee shop like he didn’t just stare oddly adoringly at the back of Mikey’s head, and then walks over with what he would try to tell you is swagger, and what Frank would later inform you can be explained by the too-large shoes for his feet. Pete swears, on his own life, on the grave of his family members who aren’t actually dead so can’t have anyone swearing over their graves in the first place, that he doesn’t buy shoes too big for any ego purposes, but rather because he likes the fit better. Frank thinks that’s bullshit. He thinks that Pete’s trying to make people think he has bigger feet, and bigger other things in correlation.

“Mikey, what a crazy random happenstance!” Pete says.

“Sorry to break it to you, but he already used that line, dude,” Brendon tells him.

“Shit,” Pete says, looking at the ceiling as if trying to find a better introduction. “Uh, never mind, hi guys.”

“Hi Pete,” Mikey says, who is the only person who looks surprised to find Pete here. 

“Well I feel like Ray is missing out on some serious bonding time right now,” Frank says.

Gerard shrugs, “he works at Kmart. Right now he’s probably falling asleep in the shampoo aisle.”

“We’ve all been there,” Brendon says.

“The craziest thing that you have ever done was go on stage at a magic show,” Pete reminds him, which makes Brendon make a face that looks curiously like the villain of a Bond film.

“You should get a chair!” Mikey says to Pete, and Frank only just realizes that he’s standing next to the table still not having moved, with his eyes fixed on Mikey. It’s kind of gross.

“They really need to put a vomit warning on those two,” Gerard murmurs to Frank.

“I don’t think it would help,” Frank says, “They do it everywhere. You’d think that they’d have hooked up by now for god’s sake, it’s so obvious.”

Brendon, who would not like for it to be known that he is eavesdropping on Gerard and Frank, makes a face of total disbelief at the irony in what they’re saying. Yeah, it sure is kind of surprising that the two of them haven’t hooked up yet, what other two people could that situation be compared to?

“What we really need is a small enclosed space and a stopwatch,” Frank says, then, after seeing the look of confusion on Gerard’s face he says, “We just have to lock them in the small enclosed space, start the timer, and wait. I would say ‘wait patiently’ but I don’t think it would take too long.”

“No it really wouldn’t,” Gerard says.

“Who else do you think that would work with, Frank?” Brendon asks him, because they’re all completely ignoring Pete and Mikey at this point. Pete, who’s pulling a chair from another table over to theirs with a painful screeching noise, is talking about something that none of them could care less about with Mikey who is entranced by every word he says.

“I don’t know, Brendon. Who?” he asks, like some sort of dare.

“Just saying,” he says, and with a sip of his drink he makes a ‘but that’s none of my business face’ which earns him another kick, a little more north, from Frank.

“I’m missing something,” Gerard says, and Brendon literally guffaws at how completely oblivious he is to Frank’s blatant flirting. Frank wonders himself if Gerard’s even aware that Frank asked him out. He’s probably kid himself into thinking Frank’s the most heterosexual heterosexual to have ever heterosexualed. 

“You’re missing quite a few things,” Brendon says.

“Namely an idiot friend who walks around with his foot in his mouth,” Frank says, in reference to Brendon, “and that’s something that I’m jealous of you about.”

“I don’t know, have you met Mikey?” Gerard shrugs. Frank’s definitely noticed quite a bit of difference in the past twenty minutes in the way that Gerard is talking to him. He’s not going out of his way to be an ass towards Frank. It’s almost like they’re talking as friends. Frank doesn’t want to read too much into that because he knows he’ll only trick himself into thinking that this is something it isn’t. He’ll convince his brain that Gerard cares more about him than he actually does, and that would be a dangerous game to play. 

“I could recite all of Hamlet in one go without either of them looking up,” Brendon notes, wrinkling his nose at the fact that he can smell Pete from where he sits. He smells like dirty clothes and some sort of flowery blend of air freshener that makes him smell like a grandmother’s laundry room.

“Oh, or you know how you can always get Pete’s attention though right?” Frank asks.

“Oh right yeah,” Brendon nods, He clears his throat, while Gerard gives him a strange look, and sings, in all seriousness, “is this the real life?”

As if on instinct, Pete looks up like someone just called his name, and Frank grins, because the easiest way to get to him is usually through Queen.

“What?” Pete asks, looking from Frank to Gerard and then to Brendon.

“I didn’t say anything,” Brendon says, “did you Frank?”

“Nope,” Frank shakes his head.

“Oh,” Pete says frowning, “I thought.... never mind.” Pete then turns back to Mikey to continue their conversation on what Frank is eerily aware to be about Iron Chef.

“He’s too easy,” Brendon sighs, shaking his head.

“You two should write a book,” Gerard says, “hacks on how to interact with Pete. It seems like you’ve got a lot of content that you could use.”

“We probably could,” Brendon says, nodding. 

Frank shakes his head, “We’d have to make it a series. We could fill out one whole volume alone talking about the dumb things he’s done.”

“Like that orange juice thing,” Gerard suggests.

“That’s really on the tamer side of his idiocy if we’re being honest,” Brendon says, “I mean, you can’t forget about the skateboard incident.”

“We don’t talk about that,” Frank warns him. He looks at Pete, as if having some sort of overdramatic flashback. 

“Right yeah, sorry,” Brendon says.

“Should I ask?” Gerard eagerly wishes that he could know what it is they’re talking about so that he could decide for himself if he’d rather have not known in the first place. But he doesn’t want Frank to think he’s too interested in him because that would be a dead giveaway to the fact that he’s thought about Frank kissing him more times than he could count.

Gerard doesn’t like to think of himself as being creepy, there’s really only two situations that he can think of that could ever be considered creepy. First, there was the time that he stalked a man who he was absolutely positive was one of the Wiggles in an organic food grocery store, only to find out that it was just some Australian with a deceivingly red shirt. The other time is his entire daydreaming system of Frank which includes many graphic images not suited for daytime TV, or really, many pornos. This facet of his imagination is also not as dormant as Gerard would like for you to think, though he doesn’t parade around about it. Mikey’s still completely aware of it, because there’s only so many times when you can wait outside of the shower for your brother to fucking _finish up_ before you’re forced to draw some rash conclusions. 

“Trust me, you do not want to know,” Frank says, “It involved a skateboard and a rather large amount of hummus.” At that however, Gerard thinks, maybe not. Maybe not knowing is the best thing for him. 

“I still have nightmares,” Brendon adds.

“Me too.”

“You guys are strange,” Gerard says, and Frank thinks that probably no truer words have ever been spoken in all of the existence of the human language.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So did I mention that I got engaged? Because I did. So like, that's the best thing ever, but whatever.


	22. Customer Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They broke Pete.

“So,” Frank hears Ray’s voice before he sees him, and he’s curious about the odd tone. Like he’s mad but not mad, but also still kind of mad.

“Yes?” Frank asks.

“I hear that someone asked Gerard Way out this weekend. And I wasn’t invited.”

“He said you were at Kmart,” Frank replies.

“Well I was, but I would have liked to have been invited anyway,” Ray says, and Frank doesn’t know how to respond to that. 

Pete does it for him, saying through a mouth full of potato chips, “none of us actually witnessed the actual asking out of him.”

“Dude,” Brendon says, looking at Pete like he’s a small child, “say it, don’t spray it.”

“Are you actually nine?” Frank asks him.

“You’re a jerk and I hate you,” Brendon says.

“Fine,” Frank says, “if you hate me then go sit on the other side of the table, that way Gerard can sit next to me.”

“You asshole,” Brendon says, squinting his eyes at Frank like he’s thinking about the best way to dispose of a body, but he shoves his food to the other side of the table and walks around it to sit next to Pete who makes a face at him. There was once a time when Frank all but forbade the two of them to sit next to, or across from each other, because they kicked each other so much under the table that they started to have bruises up and down their legs, but not the good kind. The good kind being the ones that do not develop through force, but rather through other means that may or may not include Gerard in Frank’s fantasy.

Frank turns to Ray and he says, “Don’t look at me, I’m not moving.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” Frank says, “I only need the one spot, and Pete doesn’t care about Brendon as long as he gets to sit next to Mikey.”

“Why should I care if I sit next to Mikey?” Pete asks, looking absolutely puzzled.

“Dude, do you really think we’re that stupid?” Brendon asks him.

“What do you mean?” Pete questions.

“Okay, seriously, you’re not that oblivious to your own thoughts,” Brendon says, somehow arguing with Pete, when there’s really not a good reason to. Frank thinks he should just leave it alone, leave Pete and Mikey to their own devices, maybe giving them a few shoves in the right direction here and there, but their relationship seems to be a lot more natural and unprotested than Frank’s and Gerard’s. At least with those two, one of them isn’t pretending to hate the others guts. But Frank did still manage to ask Gerard out, and that’s more than either of those two have managed, so it’s really anyone’s guess as to who would be categorically winning if this were a competition.

“Pete, are you under the illusion that we don’t know you’re in love with Mikey?”

Pete’s eyes widen, similar to the way a frogs eyes widen, but also similar to the way a cartoon character’s eyes widen, except instead of little heart eyes, he’s got pupils the size of a small moose, almost completely devoid of the already extremely deep brown, nearly black color.

“What?”

“Oh, he’s going to deny it,” Brendon says, as if this is the most unamusing thing in the world to him.

“Deny what?”

“That you’re in love with Mikey.”

“I don’t even,” Pete says, “what is...? Who is Mikey? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just, like, I don’t even know what the words coming out of your mouth mean. I’m totally like, whoever you think I’m in love with you’re wrong, because I don’t even, I’m just, and, like, and yeah. But I don’t even know anyone named Mikey. Who’s Mikey? What are you talking about. But- so- and- I’m- no- but- like- and- there’s- what- me... what?”

“Wow,” Brendon says, completely unimpressed with him. 

“I think you broke him,” Ray says.

“Broke what?” Pete asks. “Who?”

“He’s actually denying that he knows who Mikey even is,” Frank says, “What did you do Brendon? This is not okay. He’s like one of those video game characters whose legs become detached from their body or something.”

“It’s not like he has a reboot button or anything!” Brendon shouts, “How was I to know that I would break him?”

“Did you try turning it off and then on again?” Ray asks.

“Thank you for the fucking help, guy from The IT Crowd,” Brendon shouts at him, apparently considering a reference to some obscure British show to be an insult.

“Hit it a few times to try to jump start it,” Frank helps.

“You could try pressing control, alt, delete,” Ray offers.

“Why don’t you let me transfer your call to someone who’s more experienced with this sort of problem,” Frank says.

“Please hold, your call is very important to us.”

“Shut up you two!” Brendon snaps at them, because Pete’s now just staring at the wall behind him like it’s closing in on him. 

“Did you keep the receipt?” Frank asks, “We can just return him if you can’t work the problem out.”

Frank looks around, wondering where Gerard and Mikey are, but they’re not here yet, so at least Pete’s not having a breakdown in front of Mikey, which would be a little inconvenient for him. 

Frank looks out the window, where he almost misses a flash of lightning streaking across the sky, but the thunder is not quick to follow. Frank usually likes the rain, but he’s seen the blue of the sky about three times in the past month, so he’s starting to miss it. He feels like he’s moved to Scotland or something with all this fucking rain. It gets old fast.

“Pete,” Brendon says, trying to control the annoyance in his voice, “You can give up pretending that you don’t love him. We know. It’s not a secret.”

“What’s not a secret?” Pete asks before laughing so awkwardly that they all cringe, and people from several tables over look at them like they’re harboring a known fugitive.

“The fact that you like Mikey.”

“I don’t-”

“Save it,” Brendon says, rolling his eyes.

“How!”

“How what?” 

“How do you know?” Pete asks, and that’s seriously one of the dumbest questions that has ever been asked by anyone ever.

“Because you do. You’re very bad at hiding it,” Brendon tells him.

“I... I am?” Pete asks.

“You’re about as good at covering up your crush on Mikey as Frank is at covering up his crush on Gerard,” Ray tells him. 

Brendon shakes his head, “nah, Pete’s worse.”

“I’m worse?” He asks emphatically. “But I didn’t even know about Frank and Gerard until you guys told me, so it’s not _that_ obvious, right?”

“You’re just bad at reading signs,” Brendon tells him.

“Fuck!” Pete says, and he definitely says that too loudly, because people really do start to look at them at that, and Frank tries to pretend he doesn’t notice as he eats his sandwich uncomfortably.

“It’s fine,” Frank shakes his words off the best he can, “I promise you, everything will work out with him someday. Hell, you two might even get married someday.”

“Oh, here we go again,” Brendon shakes his head.

“What?” Ray asks.

“Frank is under the impression that he and Gerard will get married, and so will Mikey and Pete.”

“Yeah right,” Ray scoffs.

“I know!”

“There’s no chance in hell,” Ray says, looking at Frank like this is imperative information that must be heard, “dude, the odds of one of you actually dating one of them aren’t that slim, but then you factor in any real future that exceeds things like college and shit, there’s no chance.”

“No way in hell,” Brendon adds.

“You two have no faith in my ability to get Gerard to fall in love with me.”

“It’s not that... well it’s partially that actually, it’s just that the odds of a high school romance to ever be anything other than just that, high school, pretty much diminish after the first year of college.”

“If it’s real, it can survive,” Frank says. He’s certainly confident that his feelings for Gerard are real. At least he thinks the chances are slim that he would marry someone without real emotion to back it up. And he does marry Gerard, or at least he did in one timeline, so he thinks it should be the same for this timeline as well. Or maybe that’s more of a hope than an actuality. 

“Really?” Pete asks, “You think?”

“Oh my god, don’t drag Pete into your dreams too, Frank. He’s already messed up enough.”

“Yes, Pete,” Frank says.

“I knew you were always a better friend to me than Brendon,” Pete says, and he sighs, looking a little less petrified than he was a moment before, but still pretty freaked out over the fact that they know he’s in love with Mikey. Or maybe not in love, but smitten all the same.

“What’s his problem?” Gerard says, finally sitting down, Mikey not far behind him. Luckily for Frank, Gerard seems to understand why the seat next to Pete was unoccupied, so he goes to sit next to Frank, which makes him cheer internally. He’s not sure if Gerard is technically sitting next to Frank more so because he wants Mikey to be able to sit with Pete, or because he just wants to sit with Frank, but he hopes it’s the latter. 

“Brendon told him that we know he has a crush on Mikey,” Frank whispers to Gerard. Mikey’s looking at Pete, too focused on him to eavesdrop on Frank so he might not even need to have whispered.

“Oh so that’s why he looks like he just shat his pants,” Gerard whispers back and the feeling Frank gets when Gerard whispers in his ear is absolutely filthy. He is aware of every single hair on the back of his neck, and indeed all over his body as well, standing up the same way they do when you’re watching a scary movie. He feels his eyes dilate, the same way Pete’s had when Brendon told him that they know about his crush, but it’s a very different feeling inside of Frank’s head than it had been for Pete. It’s an utterly foreign feeling to Frank. He’s fond of it, the way that it makes him feel some unfamiliar impassioned sensation, but it’s the kind of feeling he thinks is not one he should be having in the middle of public. Still, now he’s sort of wondering what it would be like if Gerard were to whisper something in his ear when they’re alone. 

“Pete!” Brendon says angrily, “look, you rubbed off on Frank! What the hell is wrong with the two of you?”

“I’m sensing demonic possession,” Gerard offers, “why don’t we just burn them both at the stake?”

“Wouldn’t fire support a demons existence though?” Ray asks, “Like, if they’re from hell, presumably there’s lots of fire in hell, so burning them would probably just give them more power.”

“How about we test it out though?” Brendon asks, “I mean, Gerard has a fair suggestion, we might as well give it a shot.”

“I’m fine!” Frank shouts, even though he’s not particularly worried that they have any real plans to burn him anytime soon. He just doesn’t want to be as immobile and dumbstruck as Pete now is. “I just had a moment.”

Pete makes a very short but also very drawn out moment of eye contact with Frank, where he receives some sort of telepathic message from Pete saying something along the lines of, “what the hell are we going to do?”

Frank shrugs back in response and Pete looks like someone’s giving him the worst news he’s ever heard.

Frank turns to look at Gerard, he’s grinning widely at something Ray had just said, and this makes Frank’s heart stagger in his chest before he’s making a small little whimpering sound in the back of his throat. He turns to look back at Pete whose expression tells him that he knows precisely how Frank’s feeling, and that, yes, it is just as painful as he thinks it is. It’s just in his head, but Frank could swear someone’s stabbing him in the chest. He just _wants_ so much, and Gerard’s so clueless to it. 

Even though no words have actually been spoken between the two of them, Frank thinks that this is probably the best, most insightful conversation he and Pete have had since they met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have anything to write here today. Uh, Andy Hurley is the shit.


	23. 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was this chapter entirely necessary? No, but it’s fun and stupid, and that’s where the real importance in this fic lies.

Normally, Frank would make an exasperated show of how slow time passes when you are anticipating something. Time just grogs so slowly that you can actually feel yourself screaming out in agony. On the other side of the coin however, when you never want something to arrive, time seems to speed up. The days slip past so quickly that you can actually see the earth turning below your feet with the velocity of it. 

The odd spot in between is what Frank is now currently in, but the thing is that time is not moving at a regular pace, as one would guess. It’s switching off and on between fast and slow. 

At one second, Frank is waiting for the days to fly past him, and they’re so slow that he’s sure that a grandma could lap his rotation around the earth. At other times, the minutes are slipping off the clock so fast that surely he’s accidentally left the fast forward button on. 

He thinks that the strange mix of the two is because of the strange mix of the two emotions he has about the concert intertwine in his gut. He has at once both anxiety and pure excitement. He’s petrified and bone-chillingly terrified, while also adrenaline filled and pumped. Everything is all tied together to make for the weirdest couple of weeks that Frank has ever experienced. 

True to his word, Frank does manage to prevent Mikey from going to school on earth day, as he suddenly comes down with a horrible case of the stomach flu that he miraculously heals from a day later. Mikey’s eyebrows stay intact though, and really, that’s all that matters.

The day with Mikey gone is the only one where anything seems different to the days surrounding it. The variation is mostly at lunch with Pete’s smile not stretching to his eyes as much as it has been recently. It’s quick, and also agonizingly long. After a hellish series of miserable days, the two weeks that he awaits end up neither flying past, nor lurching slowly along, but at the same time, they do both. 

When finally Friday comes, Frank’s internal emotions are so mangled that he’s barely even able to comprehend that the concert that he’s been dreading and anticipating for nearly three weeks is tonight. Frank’s math isn’t fantastic, but when he calculates everything together with what he’s learned from Gee, he’s pretty sure that he and Gerard are meant to get together sometime in the next month. It could be any day now, for all he knows. Frank’s supposed to take him to prom so it’s got to be sometime before the middle of May. That doesn’t give Frank a lot of time to enjoy the bachelor life, but he’s honestly kind of sick of being single. He doesn’t care about his independence anymore, really he wants to be with Gerard, and that’s the end of that story. 

Gerard’s birthday is next Tuesday, Frank’s written that everywhere he can think of in order to remember it. It’s next Tuesday. He needs to get Gerard something that he can present the guy with _on_ his actual birthday. Yes, the concert is one thing, but he needs to have something to give him on the actual day of it so that Gerard knows that Frank really cares. He doesn’t know what to get him. He’s refused Mikey’s help on this one, because he wants it to be from him. He wants to be the one who both comes up with and gives Gerard the best present of his life. But what to get him is the problem.

Frank’s gone through every possibility. He’s coming up short. Every present that could ever be done has been done before and Gerard doesn’t deserve some canned present that you read about in a buzzfeed article, he deserves something that no one’s ever given anyone before, and he deserves the world but Frank has four dollars and thirty six sense to his name, so Gerard is not going to get the luxury that Frank wants to give him. He’ll be lucky to get a cookie that says happy birthday on it. 

He knows he’s running out of time to come up with something, but that’s not what’s important now. What he can’t get his head around is the fact that the concert is tonight, and he doesn’t know what to wear. 

That is what brings him to the situation that he now finds himself in.

“So, why are we here?” Brendon asks, as Frank sits him, Pete, and Mikey down on his bed. He turns to the three of them, the panic in his eyes guised by a very unconvincing mock-cool expression. 

“I need a homosexual’s opinion on what to wear tonight, but unfortunately, I do not have that.”

“So why are we here?” Brendon repeats.

“Because,” Frank says, “Pete, you are the closest insight I have to a full on stereotypical teen movie homosexual. Brendon, you’re the closest insight I have to a fashionista, you’re basically a metrosexual is at is. And Mikey, you’re the closest insight I have into what Gerard is attracted to.”

“All of that... is true information,” Pete says.

“So let’s get started!” Frank says.

“Well first things first,” Brendon says, with the tone of extreme importance, “there are two, or if you want to get technical, three areas you want to embellish.” 

“Oh, let me guess!” Pete says, “Uh, butt.”

“Correct,” Brendon says.

“And, um, lemme think.”

“Junk,” Mikey pitches in.

“Also correct,” Brendon says.

“Hey no fair, I was guessing!” Pete groans.

“Sorry Pete,” Mikey replies. If it were anyone but Pete and Mikey, he doubts that either of them would be so courteous to each other over something even as minimal as that. If it had been Frank who’d interrupted him, Pete would have thrown Frank’s pillow at him.

“It’s okay,” Pete replies.

“So what’s the last one?” Mikey asks Brendon.

“It’s-”

“Hey!” Pete interrupts him.

“Right, fine, sorry, Pete go ahead.”

“Is it hips?” Pete asks.

“It is not, but I like the way you think, hips are also imperative.” 

“It’s collar bones,” Frank says with certainty.

“Frank is absolutely right,” Brendon says. “Gold star.”

“Thanks,” Frank says, “I mean I have been gay for a while now, like my whole life or whatever, I know what’s the most important thing in a guy.”

“So do you have a plunging V-neck?” Brendon asks.

“Okay so maybe I’m awful at being gay, I don’t even know what that is,” Frank says. “I’m never going to win Project Runway.”

Brendon rolls his eyes, “it’s the kind of shirt where the collar makes a V.”

“Oh, see now that makes sense,” Pete says, “because like, the word actually describes what it is. I love it when things do that, describe themselves in the title. Like peanut butter. You know precisely what it is because it describes itself in the name. It’s a butter like spread made out of peanuts! Isn’t that just hella nifty?”

“You’re so stupid,” Brendon shakes his head, and then stands up and walks over to Frank’s closet.

“Gerard’s just like any other guy in the world though,” Mikey says, “like wear something that looks fine and he’ll be into it. I mean, especially if you have a band shirt. Oh, do you have a band shirt?”

“He’s got an okay-ish Ramones shirt,” Brendon says, and Frank turns to him, a little creeped out with the fact that Brendon is evaluating every item of clothing he owns so scrupulously.

“Gerard’s not a huge Ramones fan,” Mikey replies. 

“Okay, well what else do we have here,” Brendon says to himself, “uh, okay, so Rolling Stones, Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins-”

“Oh yeah, that one!” Mikey says, “Go for that one, Gerard’s a huge fan of them. Unless you have a David Bowie shirt.”

“I do, but it’s not clean,” Frank says.

“Smashing Pumpkins it is then,” Brendon says, throwing a shirt over his shoulder at Frank who barely catches it. “Now to find the skinniest jeans you have.”

“Do you have eyeliner?” Mikey asks. “Gerard would never admit this to anyone, but he digs guys in eyeliner.”

“Of course I don’t have eyeliner!” Frank says emphatically, “What year do you think this is? 2007?”

“I have eyeliner,” Pete says, before he’s picking up his backpack from the floor and searching through the small pocket on the front.

“Why do you have...?” Frank asks when Pete hands him the small little stick that is almost completely foreign to Frank’s hand. “And why do you bring it with you!”

“You never know when you’ll have an eyeliner emergency,” Pete says.

“Yeah,” Brendon says rolling his eyes, “because you do often have to think quickly on your feet to infiltrate a family of raccoons.”

“I don’t even know how to put this shit on!” Frank says exasperatedly when he uncaps it and finds a pointy nub looking at him that he doesn’t want anywhere near his eyeball.

“Not a problem,” Pete says, “I’ll do it for you.”

“I didn’t need to know that Pete knew how to apply eyeliner,” Brendon says. “Why couldn’t I have been saved from that information?”

“I think Pete would look kind of good with some eyeliner,” Mikey says, and that makes both of them turn scarlet. Frank rolls his eyes and tries to change the subject.

“You’re lucky Earl is gone,” Pete says, “or we’d have to do some serious work on your face.”

“Who’s Earl?” Mikey asks.

“Earl was Frank’s pimple. Sadly, Earl has passed away.”

“Sadly?” Frank asks him.

“Well, it was tragic for those of us who knew him well,” Pete says. 

“Why don’t you have any jeans that cut off the circulation of your blood?” Brendon shouts with annoyance from behind them.

“Do you really have to ask that question?” Frank asks him.

“Ugh, we’re going to have to do some work,” he says snatching what he’s decided are the tightest pants Frank owns, “we need some safety pins, a needle, and some thread.”

“You are not sewing me into my own pants,” Frank tells him, “they’ll have to do as is.”

“Fine,” he says, but Frank can tell that Brendon is not happy about it. “Just go put these on,” Brendon stuffs the pants into Frank’s hands. “We’ll deal with hair and makeup later.”

“I feel like you’re preparing me for a Broadway show,” Frank says, taking the clothes, and walking over to the bathroom. He doesn’t think that the three of them really need to see him undressing. 

“Wait!” Mikey says, standing up, hurrying over to Frank’s closet and grabbing at socks and, to Frank’s mild embarrassment, boxers. “You need to be clean and not smell like feet!”

“I should never have asked any of you here,” Frank says, escaping to the bathroom before they can do anything else. As soon as Frank changes, he walks back in and dumps his dirty clothes in the pile by the door. Considering that Frank is a teenage boy, he actually keeps a fairly tidy room. He does have a gigantic pile of dirty laundry, but at least it’s all in a pile rather than strewn across the entire room.

“Let’s do something about that hair then,” Mikey says.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Frank asks.

“What isn’t wrong with your hair,” Mikey says, grabbing Frank by the elbow and pulling him back into the bathroom in the hall that he was just in. 

Frank feels like someone’s basically trying to pull his hair out for about ten minutes, with Brendon and Pete making notes of Mikey’s work, and he feels very much like an object, wincing at every careless tug and coughing as he’s bombarded with dry hair shampoo and hairspray. His mom is not going to be entirely happy if she finds out how much of that shit Mikey is using on him, and he doesn’t want to think about how awful and crunchy his hair is going to feel later from all those chemicals.

When Mikey announces that he is done, Frank looks in the mirror and his hair literally looks no different from the way it usually looks. He decides not to comment on it and instead allows Brendon to grab his arm and steer him away from the bathroom and back into his room.

“Where does your mom keep her makeup?” Brendon asks.

“You’re not going to-”

“Yes I abso-fucking-lutely am,” he replies, and orders Frank to go grab it. He thinks it’s not a good idea and insists that she is going to notice and not be very happy about it, but Frank is helpless under Brendon’s orders.

Eventually, Frank does give in and he goes to retrieve his mother’s makeup bag, feeling like an utter tool for being forced to wear makeup. It’s not that he frowns upon makeup he just doesn’t want to be wearing someone else’s face when he sees Gerard. Also that gunk gets in his pores and makes his face all oily. Not that he’s speaking from experience or anything. 

“Eyeliner first!” Pete insists, “It’s the easiest thing to mess up and the hardest thing to redo.” 

“Are you sure you know how to do this?” Frank asks nervously as Pete brandishes the pencil at him menacingly. He doesn’t want anything that pointy anywhere near his eyes.

“Yes, now close your eyes and stay still.”

“And pray to whoever you need to that he doesn’t poke your eye out,” Brendon says.

“Oh fuck,” Frank says, closing his eyes tightly. Pete then scolds him because apparently he can’t put it on when Frank has his eyes so tight which forces Frank to make a squeaking sound, and oblige to Pete’s orders. This leads into five minutes of painfully anxious silence as everyone waits for Pete to finish. 

“Perfect,” he says when he finishes.

“I have to say,” Brendon says, analyzing Frank too closely for his liking, “Pete, the eyeliner doesn’t look half bad.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Pete says, pretending to tear up. 

“Eyebrow time,” Brendon says.

“ _What_ time?” Frank asks, completely taken off guard as he’s struck with fear.

“Eyebrow time,” Brendon repeats, and Frank can actually feel the fear in his gut at the prospect of Brendon with tweezers anywhere near him.

“Don’t tear up too much though, or I’ll have to do it all over again,” Pete says, stepping back and making Frank fear for his life. 

They basically have to hold Frank down to get him to let Brendon anywhere near him with a pair of tweezers and after they decide his eyebrows look good enough, he has to be convinced very thoroughly for him to allow Brendon to put cover-up anywhere near him. When Frank was trying to hide his pimple, it had been a different story, and also, he doesn’t think he trusts Brendon enough. 

All in all, it takes them about half an hour of covering his face with various different goops for them to decide that he is presentable. Frank, after looking in a mirror, decides that they literally did almost nothing because he looks almost exactly the same, but his eyebrows are actually looking fairly nice. Also eyeliner isn’t a bad look for him. He does however firmly decide that he is never going to let them make him over ever again.

“He looks perfect,” Pete says, “we did a fantastic job.”

“I’ve gotta agree,” Mikey nods. “The only thing left to do is-”

“Oh no,” Frank groans.

“Relax,” Mikey says, shaking his head, “we just need to make sure you smell nice.” Mikey finds a vanilla scented hand sanitizer that Frank was unaware existed, let alone something that he possessed, and he forces Frank to apply it like perfume, on his neck and wrists. 

“I should turn you in as my art project,” Pete announces. 

“You all are incredibly creepy,” Frank says, “now, I have a date to get to, so you guys need to get the hell out of my house.”

“Ah, party pooper,” Brendon groans.

“Why the hell do you think I asked you guys here? It was so that you could help me get ready! I am now ready, so you can piss off.”

Frank shoves them all downstairs after returning his mother’s makeup to her room and desperately hoping she doesn’t notice that it ever moved anywhere.

“I feel very used,” Mikey groans as they’re brought outside with Frank locking the door behind him.

“Good,” he says. “Now shoo. Disperse. Leave. Whatever.”

“Fine,” Brendon says, grabbing his keys from his pocket, and preparing to drive the other two home, or, more likely, drive Pete and Mikey somewhere to be alone while he gags about it until tomorrow. 

“You have to tell me how it goes though!” Mikey says as they walk away.

“Why can’t you ask Gerard?” Frank asks him.

“I need both perspectives,” Mikey says.

“I do to!” Pete announces, “but I can just get Gerard’s perspective from Mikey later, but you’ve gotta tell me how it goes to my face, or text me.”

“You guys are so infuriating,” Frank shakes his head, following them down the driveway to get into his own car. “Fine then. I’ll call you guys tomorrow with the story.”

“You’d better add me to the mailing list,” Brendon warns him, “I spent too much time on that face to go without a summary.”

Frank just groans, and opens his car door to escape them. 

“I’m taking that as a yes!” Brendon shouts before Frank can close the door. He could still probably hear Brendon with the door closed, but he has every intention to blare his music as loudly as he can for the express purpose of being unable to hear any of them as he drives away.

For the first time in several weeks, he finally feels like time is moving at it’s normal pace. It’s allowing him the time to feel his heart beating at an unnaturally high speed. It’s kind of scary how nervous he feels. He can feel every single part of his body clam up with something similar to fear, but not quite.

Every scenario flashes through his brain at this point. Maybe he got the date of the concert wrong, he might’ve gotten the wrong address to Gerard’s house, or the wrong address to the venue. Maybe the tickets he bought won’t work, or they’ll get stolen. Maybe the band had to cancel last minute and this will all have been a bust. Maybe his car is going to break down before he gets there, or he’ll get so caught up in traffic that they’ll miss the concert. Maybe Gerard will completely ignore him the whole night and Frank will just be the weird guy clinging to his side who paid for the tickets. Maybe they’ll get really bad spots and Gerard will be mad at him for them not getting there earlier. 

Every possibility of what could go wrong has crossed Frank’s mind in under a few seconds as he starts the car’s engine. He’s quietly relieved at the sound of the car’s rumbling and he takes a deep breath in as he pulls his car out of the driveway. 

Frank tries to ignore the way that the three of them stand there waving at him widely in the most obnoxious way possible, but it’s hard to miss the way that Pete is waving like Mia Thermopilis in the Princess Diaries. At least, Frank thinks, he’s soon going to have his first ever opportunity to be alone with Gerard. That information is enough for Frank to muster up the energy to wave back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've come to the conclusion that Gerard Way does not exist. He is a mass hallucination. He's not a real person. This explains so many things.


	24. Helena’s Accidental Yet Indisputable Rant About Tess of the d'Urbervilles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part one.

Gerard’s house is an unassuming, really very passable one on the street of very dissimilar, equally dingy looking coops. Each one however, has more character in a single brick than every square foot of the house Frank grew up in. Frank likes Gerard’s house however, because, even though Frank knows Gerard had no say in the design of it, it looks like him. 

The old, withering shingles, barely hanging on, as if only by a thread, look like Gerard somehow, and Frank’s not sure how. It’s the way that they’re so different, he thinks. So unassuming, and completely easy to miss but somehow oddly beautiful. Just like Gerard. The way the paint is chipping away on the sides, revealing a coat of color from some previous incarnation of this house’s existence. The almost Cookie Monster blue leaks out in spots from the heinously repainted beige that was obviously chosen for its unassertive qualities than for its overall appeal. There’s a front porch, a sorry one at that, which you don’t normally find in this sort of town, and the paint here is dwindling away as well. 

All in all, it’s one of the most charming houses Frank has ever seen. There’s lilies in the flower pots underneath a sagging arch-like door front, a small welcome sign hangs crookedly from the middle of the door. Weeds are eating away at the old brick foundation peaking from the bottom of the house, and the front lawn hasn’t seen proper treatment in several years, with the unkempt grass overgrown, but not unhealthy. The upkeep it must take to prevent the house from caving in on itself must be strenuous, but it’s absolutely gorgeous in Frank’s eyes.

It’s much like Gerard, and he thinks that that’s the reason for why his thinks it looks like him. It does, in a certain sort of way. It looks like the way people must see Gerard. An easily overlooked house for an easily overlooked boy. A not the typically pretty house, for a not the typically pretty boy. A house with more character and stories to tell than a cookie cutter only a few streets away, made just for a boy like Gerard, though his existence wouldn’t have been even a wisp of an idea when this house, and even the neighborhood, were first erected. 

Frank grabs his phone, ready to text Gerard when he sees Gerard opening the door, looking back and saying something to someone inside. Frank doesn’t have to really wonder who, one of his parents, but he says something and then looks back in the direction of Frank’s car, pulling the front door closed behind him.

Gerard looks, and of course Frank is biased, like a million bucks. His hair is messier than usual, but Frank’s almost shocked to see that it looks like it’s been washed. Honestly, he looks like the kid that you’d watch very closely in a convenience store, torn jeans which went out of style years ago, but somehow still work on him, baggy shirt for some metal band that only five people have heard of, and shoes older than Frank. Or at least they look it. 

Frank feels his heart all but stop when Gerard pulls open the car door and sits down swiftly in the passenger’s seat, barely even looking at Frank as he does so, almost like he belongs there. Frank’s heart may not actually stop, but it does a whole slew of other things. It speeds up, slows down, skips a beat, clenches, stings, warms, and probably does several other things that can’t all happen at once but do. 

“Hey,” Gerard says, pulling his buckle across him before he even really looks at Frank. When he does turn to look at him, he’s a little caught off guard, because Frank looks nothing like he usually does at school. At school, he’s scruffy, tired looking, bored, with great big bags under his eyes because he was up too late the previous night studying. He never bothers to dress up, he normally just throws whatever on, and Gerard kind of likes it that way, but he looks very uniquely different now. He looks perfect.

Like, Gerard is sure that he isn’t actually sitting there, because everything about him is so on point that he might just be a robot with excellent creators. His hair looks like an expensive salon arrangement, and Gerard is positive his skin isn’t actually that clear. Why is Frank dressing up for him? Or maybe this is just the way he likes to dress up for concerts. That might be it. He just wants to look good in case he meets some cute girl there. 

But everything about him is literally screaming at Gerard. He’s got a Smashing Pumpkins shirt, so obviously he is worthy to breathe the same air as Gerard, and he’s got eyeliner which makes Gerard very weary of his secret, completely harmless, but nevertheless embarrassing kink.

“You look...” Gerard starts, but then stops himself, because Frank doesn’t like boys so saying that he looks like the most gorgeous human being that Gerard has ever seen would be a little creepy.

“You look amazing,” Frank says to him, and Gerard turns his head to look back at his house so that Frank can’t see him blushing. Gerard knows it’s not a date. It’s not. But it feels like it is.

Frank however knows that it technically is a date and he also knows that Gerard is completely clueless and needs to have a brick thrown at his head. But it’s a very nice head, so Frank doesn’t want to do that. And it might not help.

“Uh,” Gerard says, “we should go. Before Mikey gets home.”

“Yeah,” Frank agrees, putting the car in reverse as he backs out of the driveway. He doesn’t think to mention that Mikey’s probably over at Pete’s being showered in baked goods by his mother. Or, like, in a bush making out with Pete, either one seems likely to Frank.

“So, uh,” Gerard says, wincing at the fact that he has nothing to say to Frank. Well, in truth, he’s got hundreds of things to say to Frank, all of them as invasive as the next. He doesn’t say any of those things though.

“I’m really hoping that this means you don’t entirely hate me,” Frank asks Gerard, looking at him only for a second, because any more would be bad for two reasons. Gerard would notice, and also, he is driving a car, so not looking at the road can have some bad consequences, all of them are worse than embarrassing yourself in front of a boy.

“I think it’s probably too late to deny that I don’t _completely_ hate you.”

“But the way you say completely-”

“Frank, just, ugh,” he sighs loudly, “I don’t hate you. I can’t hate you when you bought me tickets to a concert when I was acting the way I was to you.”

“It wasn’t unwarranted.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Gerard says, “but I think I kept the act going too long. I mean, I am still pissed, that’s never going to go away-”

“Yeah, I know,” Frank says with complete honesty. He does know. Gee told him. Eight years have passed between Gerard now and the Gerard that he will become, and in that eight years, he has still failed to forgive Frank. He is hoping he can do many things to at least try to redeem himself a little bit between now and then.

“What? Oh, yeah,” Gerard says, Frank’s words seeming to muddle him a little bit. “But, I mean to say, you’re not a bad dude. Mikey likes you. I mean, I think mainly he likes you because you’re his insight into Pete, but he’s like that sometimes. And Ray doesn’t seem to mind you either, and if there’s any speaker of truth, it’s him.”

“You can always trust him?” Frank asks.

“Well, I don’t know about always, he enjoys Moby Dick.”

“Enjoys?” Frank asks, “like, he enjoys it even after that assignment in Sophomore year where we had to dissect every single word of it and basically just rewrite the entire length of the book into a hellish walking thesaurus, which the book already is I mean, come on Melville, I get it, you like the color white but I don’t want to read six million words on it, and fucking hell Ahab, grow up, I get it, you’re pissed and you hold a grudge, but just let the fucking thing go already, you long-winded piece of shit.”

“See, and that’s what I told him,” Gerard says. “But does he listen to me?”

“Why are all classics that everyone commends so awful?”

“Like The Hunchback of Notre Dame and that fucking table. I don’t give a fuck about the famous marble table, shut up.”

“Great Expectations leaves you with just that, and then you come out if it thinking that you would rather have been physically assaulted with a baseball bat for six hours than to have read that piece of shit.”

“Dante’s Inferno is the most hate-filled book imaginable. Is there anyone that man did not hate?” Gerard asks.

“I could sit here forever shitting on literary classics,” Frank says. 

“I could write my own book about how much I hate Ethan Frome,” Gerard says, shaking his head.

“So you’ve never read Tess of the d'Urbervilles then.”

“Frank,” Gerard says, “he tried to kill himself by sledding into a tree.”

“Gerard,” Frank replies, “she was executed for murdering the man who raped her.”

“Frank,” Gerard repeats, the same tone as before, “he fell in love with his wife’s _cousin_.”

“Gerard,” Frank says, “he pretends to be her cousin, rapes her, impregnates her, the baby dies, she falls in love with a different guy, and on their wedding night she tells him that she had a baby so now she’s impure and her husband runs away from her where he almost dies of Malaria and then comes back after his horribly timed epiphany of her purity but she’s gone off and married her rapist so then she kills him to be with the guy she loves and then they run away and the police find her and they execute her and her husband nails her sister.”

“Wow,” Gerard says, “you win.”

“It is the most depressing book on the face of this planet,” Frank says, “and I will forever hate Mr. Smythe with a passion for making me read it.”

“Why did she marry her rapist?” Gerard asks.

“Money,” Frank shrugs, as if it’s obvious. Really all the stupid things in life boil down to that one thing. “And he was the only dude who’d have her since she wasn’t a virgin.”

“Man, why are classics always so depressing and shitty?”

“It’s because they’re hyped up so much that you start to believe it. If they were to tell you honestly that it’s a book full of angst, and cynicism than you wouldn’t read it. And you can really tell in that older stuff that they used to get paid by word. Like I said, great expectations. But before you go shitting on Catcher in the Rye, just know that it is my favorite book and I will punch you in the ear.”

“Fair enough,” Gerard says. “But like, Catcher in the Rye is the favorite book of psychopaths.”

“I’m not in the business of denying that many psychopaths enjoy Catcher in the Rye, but they also probably enjoy ice cream.”

“Again, fair enough,” Gerard says.

Frank has to pause for Gerard to tell him where to go, because he’s not fantastic with directions, and he ends up pulling into the parking lot of a very decrepit looking building a few minutes later. This place honestly looks like a poorly rehabilitated speakeasy. 

Gerard seems to like it, but Frank is not so thrilled. It’s different to Gerard’s house. Though both are old, Gerard’s house does not look grungy, or dirty, or germy. Everything, from the door handle that Frank grabs for Gerard because he is a gentleman, to the floor that he stands on looks like it could use a bath in Purell.

“I like it,” Gerard says, noting Frank’s uncomfortable face.

“Okay, there’s charm and then there’s gross,” Frank says.

“It’s not that bad,” Gerard replies.

“There’s a hole in the ceiling.”

“Most buildings in this town have holes in the ceiling,” Gerard says, “the old barber, the old town hall building, that bar uptown.”

Frank doesn’t know why he jumps at the words ‘that bar uptown.’ Because of course Gerard knows that bar. Because Frank met Gerard in that bar. Frank fell in love with Gerard in that bar. Or at least outside of it. Though he would never admit that to anyone. Because he’d known the guy for a minute and half when he made Frank fall in love with him. But he supposes that that’s what happens when timelines get all twisted up with each other. Gerard, Gee, he must’ve broken something. Broken some small little thread in space, because Frank loved him instantly. Gerard might have carried that back with him. That’s the only thing Frank can figure. Because you don’t just fall in love with a stranger. Because that’s stupid.

Frank is falling in love with him again, he can feel it. He feels it when he looks at Gerard’s profile, the way his features look so much more distinguished from this angle. You can see the curve of his nose and the way his lips meet, making Frank extremely hungry for him. 

What Frank wouldn’t give to be alone, and to just push him up against a wall and kiss the fuck out of him. He’d sell his soul for that. He just wants to shower Gerard with all the love he’s built up for him, and he doesn’t care if even one fifth of that is reciprocated, as long as Gerard were to kiss him back. Frank can’t imagine Gerard could ever, not in the future, not now, not ever, love Frank in the way that Frank loves him. 

Frank’s so unaccustomed to throwing that word around. Love. It’s not a word that can be thrown out so Willy-nilly. It’s not like it loses its meaning when you profess how much you love your favorite show, but it’s not as true as when you talk about someone who you do actually love. And Frank loves Gerard. It’s too late to deny it. He’s fallen, and he’s fallen hard. He knows it. He’s not sure how he knows it, but he does. It’s like this warmth he gets all over his body when he so much as thinks about Gerard. It’s that way that Frank smiles when he hears the sound of Gerard’s voice. It’s the fact that he misses Gerard when he’s standing right next to him.

Frank’s never been in love before. He never knew what it would feel like. He certainly never imagined this. It’s almost more painful than it is amazing. But it’s not a bad kind of pain. It’s this pain of wanting to be so unbelievably close to him that he’s void of what makes them individuals. Frank thinks, what love is, what it really is, it’s wanting to hold the other person, not in a death grip, but just hug them, and know that they’re hugging you back. That’s what it feels like to him. He doesn’t need any of the other stuff. He doesn’t need to kiss Gerard, or fuck him, or any of that stuff that they talk about in romance novels. He just needs to hold him. And talk to him. Make him laugh. Make him laugh that dumb, high, goose honking laugh. 

Frank once broke his arm. It was their fifth grade graduation party, the class went on a field trip to a roller-skating rink. He didn’t know what he was doing. Brendon had told him outright, rollerblades are easier, the glide is better, the control is stronger, the stopping is easier. It looks like there’s less balance, but there’s so much more with four wheels in a row rather than four, with two each side by side. But Frank did not listen. He broke his arm. Two days left of school and he broke his arm. At that time, he had thought breaking his arm would be the most painful thing that had ever happened to him. It was pretty excruciating.

Breaking his arm, it doesn’t hold a candle to how much it hurts for him to be in love without Gerard knowing. 

He follows Gerard over to a small, cramped looking booth near the back, Gerard doesn’t need a good spot he says, he doesn’t like mosh pits, he just likes the music. Frank’s not complaining. In a mosh pit, it’s easier to accidentally get really close to Gerard and be extremely creepy with his thoughts in that closeness, but somehow, having their own spot is more intimate. It makes the moment theirs, not theirs and two hundred other teenagers, just theirs.

It’s one of those wrap around booths, but it’s not grand and large like it is at family restaurants. The stuffing is peaking out of the seat, and the table is tiny, not the proper size for this booth, so you either have to put it in the middle and be far away from it or squish everyone on one side and pull the table closer to you. Gerard gets in first, moving in to sit in the middle, and Frank decides not to get too close. There’s so much room, it would look suspicious if he were to get too close to Gerard with five feet of space on his other side that he could be occupying. This way, the table isn’t too far in between them, but it’d be closer to them both if Frank were closer to Gerard. But he doesn’t move.

Frank left his fake ID at home. He doesn’t know this place as well as the bar, he doesn’t know how easy it is to trick the bartenders. Besides he’s not really all that fond of the looseness, not on a day like tonight anyway. He doesn’t want to be impaired. If that’s what he wants for the night, then it’s fine, to be a little more free and have dulled inhibitions. But Frank doesn’t want to forget this. He doesn’t want to lose a moment of this. Not a single second. If he were to be tipsy, even the tiniest amount, he might miss something, some small little nuance. He doesn’t want that. Frank has plans to keep his eyes on Gerard for the whole night. Watch his smile, his every move, that moment when he mimes the lyrics thinking that no one else is watching. He wants all of it, but he wishes he were holding Gerard’s hand during.

Frank looks at Gerard’s hand, resting lightly on the table, so completely plainly. His fingernails are kind of dirty, and his hand looks a little dry, and Frank shouldn’t be so beckoned by it, but he just wants to hold Gerard’s hand. He just wants that. He wants to be holding Gerard’s hand and not have to care about himself, or anyone’s judgment. He wants Gerard to be grinning like a dork as he looks at Frank, blushing after Frank tells him he’s beautiful. He wants it so much, he almost feels like crying, because it’s right there. Gerard’s hand is right fucking there. 

Frank makes his own hands into fists, digging his own fingernails into the palms of his hand to keep him from doing anything stupid. It’s not helping.

He still wants to hold Gerard’s hand.

Fuck the Beatles.

“I’m going to get us some drinks,” Frank says, because the only thing he can do to get away from Gerard is that. 

“What?” Gerard asks, “No!”

“Why?” Frank asks, stopping to look at him, looking completely serious.

“Because you paid for these tickets,” Gerard says, and he starts to shuffle around the other side of the booth, which isn’t technically the long way round because he’s in the middle, but Frank feels like it is. “I can get the drinks.”

“No, it’s fine,” Frank says, but Gerard just gives him this evil eye that he does not want to argue with. “Alright.”

“What’ya want?” Gerard asks him.

“Coke is fine,” Frank says, Gerard nods, and just like that he’s disappearing. They’re here nearly an hour early, and it’s already starting to fill up. Not a bad turnout for a band that Frank had never heard of before Mikey told him about them. 

This isn’t much better, Frank thinks. He’s still thinking about Gerard and how it would feel to hold his hand, and he hates how much he wants it.

Frank never once thought to hold Gee’s hand. It never occurred to him. He was caught up in the heat of the moment, he just forgot to think about it. He’d never held a guy’s hand before, only a girls, and he still hasn’t held a guy’s hand. Not once. It feels so wrong to have visited all the other bases and never held anyone’s hand. It’s not something he likes.

Gerard comes back some time later, it feels like ten minutes, so it’s probably only five. He brings Frank a coke, and thank god it’s not in a glass that they provided because Frank doesn’t think he would want to drink in a cup from this place. Instead, it’s just in a plastic disposable cup, and he accepts it with a thank you as Gerard scoots over to the middle again. Frank’s pretty sure Gerard’s got a coke too, because of the way he’d handed it to Frank, like it didn’t really matter which one he gave him. He knows it’s stupid, but he would love to be that gross couple who share a pop and get two straws. He knows it’s stupid but he wants to be that couple. He wants to be gross. He wants to be the couple that Pete and Mikey still aren’t but someday will be. 

“You okay?” Gerard asks him, and Frank feels like he’s being shaken awake as he’s pulled from some distant reverie. 

“What?”

“You just had this weird look on your face,” Gerard says.

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Frank says. “I’m great.”

“Yeah?” Gerard asks, like he’s still not satisfied with the answer.

Frank nods, “Yeah. Completely. I’m having a good time so far.”

Gerard smiles lightly, not entirely sure what Frank means. All they’ve done is talk to each other, but that doesn’t make sense. He just can’t imagine that Frank enjoys spending time with him. 

Frank curses himself for not noticing this guy sooner. If he’d only known. He could have befriended him years ago and then Gerard never would’ve hated him in the first place so getting him to fall in love and accept that Frank, does in fact like him a lot, wouldn’t be so hard. But maybe Frank never would’ve looked twice at Gerard. Maybe they’d have been friends, and hell maybe they would’ve known for years that each other was gay but Frank would never have considered him. He would’ve just looked over Gerard’s head the whole time, not noticed how perfect he was.

Maybe Gee is right. Maybe Frank really only ever did look twice at Gerard because of Gee. It’s all some big looping paradox, where Frank never would have looked at Gerard if it hadn’t been for the fact that he fell for Gerard who was not in fact Gerard, or at least not yet. Frank’s brain hurts. 

All he knows is that Gerard is sitting right there and it has never been so hard to hold himself back from anything before. Sitting with Gerard at lunch wasn’t this hard. He was always surrounded by other people, or worried about someone seeing him, or just worried about Gerard rejecting him, but here, it’s so much harder. Here, Frank looks at him and there’s no barriers there except for themselves and its infuriating. He’s never been closer to Gerard, had more of a chance to fucking go for it with him, he’s never been in a situation this reckless and this hypnotic before. Yet still, he doesn’t get to be with Gerard. Not even now, knowing what he does. He doesn’t get that.

Frank sighs and looks down into his hands. If Gerard had thought he’d looked odd before, he shouldn’t see this face. Frank can’t see his own face, but he feels like utter despair, so he knows he must look it. He wants something so bad that he doesn’t have and it’s painful and infuriating, and he can barely handle it anymore.

Frank starts to question whether coming here was a good idea. He’s been so focused on what could go wrong that he never once imagined how hard it would be having to look at Gerard and knowing that he doesn’t have him. 

“Oh fuck,” he mumbles to himself. 

“What did you say?” Gerard asks, and Frank looks up, switching his face to the blankest one he can make.

“It’s nothing,” Frank says. As he says it he thinks about how real that is. It’s the fact that it’s nothing that makes him ache so fucking much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment maybe?


	25. The Word "Fucking" Is Used A Lot In This Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m seriously going to punch you in the fucking face.”

Frank’s not having as great a time as he keeps assuring Gerard that he is having. It’s mostly because Gerard is a fucking idiot. 

He keeps looking at Frank when he thinks Frank’s not watching and he looks like Frank feels. He wants to give it up and just tell Gerard he likes him but he doesn’t want to be creepy and that’s not how he wants to remember this. He doesn’t want to be pushy about it. It’s got to feel right, and that just wouldn’t feel right.

Gerard feels almost exactly the same way as Frank. He is madly crazy about the guy, but he can’t have him because Frank isn’t into it, and it’d be weird. He keeps pulling himself back, but he’s also trying to flaunt the fact that he’s not uninviting. He puts his hand on the table, as casually as he can, and he’s waiting for Frank to maybe take it. He hasn’t yet. But Gerard’s hoping for it anyway.

Frank is oblivious to this, and thinks Gerard’s hand is inadvertently lying there as some sort of heavenly prank being pulled on him.

Basically, both of them are idiots. It’s the same problem as Mikey and Pete. Everyone knows. They’re not kidding anyone. Everyone who looks at them knows that they like each other. But still they pretend not to. They ignore everyone’s eyes and they do what they can to seem completely casual, when neither of them wants that. 

If this were the Sims, and Brendon was in charge, they would be making out in the bathroom like an hour ago. Well, if Brendon was in charge they’d have been making out like ten minutes after they first met, or at least Gerard and Frank, not Gee, because Brendon is blissfully unaware of Gee’s existence. Lucky bastard. Brendon has incredibly promiscuous Sims though. He tried to Woohoo with everyone in town once. He made several enemies in doing so.

The first ten minutes are incredibly awkward minutes that Frank barely makes it through alive. Then Gerard starts talking to him about David Bowie, and this is a conversation that he knows how to be a part of. David Bowie is soon replaced by “how epic is the movie Labyrinth though, I mean seriously” which somehow turns into a discussion about The Emperor’s New Groove, and Frank couldn’t tell you how they got there if you asked.

Frank could talk to him forever. He could literally talk about every topic on this planet and never get bored. Frank could talk about the most boring thing ever, like maybe golf, and he would never in his life stop being thrilled by every word out of Gerard’s mouth. 

Frank feels like he’s been personally assaulted when their cut off by a long guitar chord, being pumped through an incredibly old and worn speaker system. This is what forces him to shut up however, so it’s the guitar chord from hell. Yes, he knows they’re here to see Gerard’s band, but Frank really wishes that they could not be here for that. Just here to talk and flirt and make out and stuff.

Instead of listening to the band, Frank focuses his attention on an assortment of different things. He looks at Gerard’s hand, and at Gerard’s face, and at Gerard’s arm, and at Gerard’s smile, and at Gerard’s eyes, and then back at Gerard’s hand, and so on and so forth. If it is not in some way a part of Gerard, Frank does not look at it.

He’s going to end up short circuiting if he keeps looking at Gerard, he knows that. Gerard’s like the sun, you can’t look at him too long or you’re blinded by him, because he’s that gorgeous. Frank can’t see enough detail of Gerard’s face though. He’s gotta get closer.

Frank does what he hopes is not an obvious scooch over towards Gerard. He’s now maybe six inches closer to Gerard. Six inches is only a small fraction of the space he needs to scooch.

After what Frank feels is an appropriate amount of time later, he fakes a sneeze which gives him the cover to scooch over about another six inches, give or take a few inches. There’s about a foot left of space. He needs to remove about, he’d say, like maybe seven or eight of those inches because he wants to be close, elbow touching close, but he doesn’t want to be so close that Gerard realizes he’s really fucking close.

Frank makes his way, an inch at a time at sporadic intervals until there’s about five inches between them. This is good, he can work with five inches. Five inches is a lot closer than the several feet that it had been.

He doesn’t know what to do from here though. He looks at Gerard’s hand, it’s still mocking him, staring him right in the face. Frank expects it to start talking to him and taunt how much of a coward he is. Then he realizes how stupid that thought is, and he resigns, taking his own hand and staring at it angrily, like he’s blaming the appendage for his own fear of grabbing that fucker’s hand. 

He really wishes Gee had left him with an intricate, step-by-step guide as to how he is supposed to get this stupid asshole to fall in love with him. All he basically said was good luck and ran away. That is not helping Frank right now! Sure he knows the outcome but he doesn’t know a fucking thing about how that outcome becomes itself.

Frank’s too busy being angry at himself, that he has to physically restrain his socks from falling off when he feels Gerard’s hand, the hand not on the table, accidentally brush up against his thigh. It’s like he’s hyperaware of everything the moment it happens, because one second Frank is sulking, staring angrily at some couples initials scratched into the table in the shape of a heart, wishing they were his and Gerard’s, and the next moment, he’s looking up with eyes so wide that they’re almost perfect circles.

“Sorry!” Gerard says in a tone suggesting he just did something extremely serious like accidentally dropped Frank’s entire china cabinet on the ground and everything shattered into a million pieces.

Gerard is then scooting away from Frank, and all the hard work that Frank put into getting himself closer is lost. 

He barely remembers to mumble a response, something like, “no s’okay.” It’s too late. He’s now over a foot and a half away. Frank feels like he’s lost a very large amount of hard work, like he wrote an essay and then the computer shutdown before he got to save it. That’s what this feels like.

Frank’s mumbling something about the bathroom, and that’s all he says before he’s hurrying out of the seat. He’s not sure that you could pay him any thousands of dollars to actually use the bathroom in a place like this, and he has to use the hem of his shirt to even open the door handle, which was once a silver color, but is now chipped away to reveal a gross brown color underneath. Frank doesn’t even want to contaminate his shirt on that nasty doorknob, but he has no other choice. 

When he escapes to the bathroom and hears the door shut behind him, the music quiets to a low rumble. If it were a nicer venue, he’d still be deafened from in here, but he’s not, which is how you know it’s a shithole. 

After a quick assessment which entails lowering his head so that his hair almost touches the grotty bathroom tiles, he discovers that he’s alone. There’s only two stalls, so there’s not very many places to hide, and Frank is thankful of the privacy as he groans out as loudly as he can, because he needs to release some amount of his anger into the world in order to maintain his sanity.

Frank wants to splash some water on his face, but he can picture Brendon’s face if he found out that all of his work got washed away to the pipes, and that is not something Frank wants to have to deal with. Instead, he just glares at the sink and wishes that it would swallow him so he won’t have to be so miserable and hopelessly optimistic. 

He’s still banking on the fact that it could happen. Gerard might make a move. Maybe even tonight, he could. That’s not going to happen though, Frank knows it won’t, but he refuses to give up on the idea.

He huffs, glares at his reflection in the mirror and frowns at what he sees. He doesn’t look bad, he doesn’t know why Gerard doesn’t want to at least flirt with him, he doesn’t know what it is he’s missing. He looks better than usual he supposes, his eyes aren’t as tired, and his hair isn’t too unkempt. Frank was pretty sure that there was one guy who’d been making eyes at him as they entered the place, but he didn’t really care. That guy wasn’t Gerard, so he was incidental. Frank would hit on himself, he thinks, so he doesn’t know why Gerard isn’t doing that.

Frank knows that the only way that this will work is if he makes the first move. That’s what it’s come to. He has to do it. If he doesn’t, it will never happen.

So, Frank grabs a wad of paper towels, opens the door using his newly acquired paper towel mitten, and then throws his paper towels away in the trash can near the bar. He walks back to their table, pushing through what feels like way more people than he’d been through the other way, but he finally spots their booth.

Gerard is actually looking for him when Frank spots him, and as soon as he sees Frank, his eyes dart away. He feels his inner Chandler release mentally when his brain screams, “could he _be_ any more obvious?”

“Hey,” Frank says, because now is not the time for snotty remarks about how obvious Gerard’s crush is. Frank scoots into the seat, and then scoots some more. When he settles back into the booth, he’s more than made up for the space he lost when Gerard had scooted away, so maybe his spontaneous bathroom break was cleverer than he’d planned on it being.

Frank is almost bumping shoulders with Gerard. There’s nearly seven feet on Frank’s other side that he could be occupying, which is literally enough space for him to lie down. He wouldn’t do that of course, he doesn’t trust this seat enough, but if he wanted to, he’d have more than enough room, it would just be a strange angle, because of the curve of the booth.

Gerard’s pretending that he doesn’t notice how close Frank is. He’s got his hands clutched together tightly, and he’s trying to concentrate on the show, this is why he’s here. He’s here to see a band, not to be absolutely petrified by how close Frank is. He doesn’t need that. He doesn’t know if he doesn’t want it, but he knows that it’s not something he wants to have to think about.

So he looks at the band, tries to tell himself he’s more attracted to the bassist than to Frank, but it’s not working. That chin carpet isn’t doing any favors for that bassist, and there’s nothing about Frank that Gerard would see fit to change, except for maybe his sexual orientation. 

Frank is not going to give up. This is going to happen, and he’s decided it’s going to happen today. As in, sometime in the next half hour. 

Gerard looks away from Frank for so long, that he almost forgets why it is he’s not looking at him. To be fair, he doesn’t exactly know why Frank is so close. He’s too close. There’s so much space. Gerard’s got barely a couple of inches between him and Frank, and he could scoot over and away, but he doesn’t want to. He’s an oblivious idiot, but he’s an oblivious idiot who likes how close Frank is.

Frank looks away from him, over to the band, and he realizes that he hasn’t been listening to a single chord all night. He couldn’t tell you a thing about a single one of their songs. Not a single word or anything. Frank couldn’t pick the lead singer out of a line up. That, however, may not be because of his horrible attentiveness, but because he can’t see more than ten feet in front of him.

The lighting, honestly, is atrocious. Frank can barely see his own hand let alone the band on stage. He’s pretty sure that this club must have been designed back in the 70s, it’s got the aura of having hosted several later regretted discoes. It smells like weed and alcohol and poorly cooked club food, as well as the very immediate stench of body odor.

But Frank looks at Gerard, even despite the bad lighting, the bad smell, and the shitty sound equipment and he looks like he’s having the time of his life so Frank must not have screwed everything up. He’d have been here with Mikey if Frank hadn’t invited him, and he might honestly have had a better time, Frank’s never going to actually know whether that’s true or not, but he thinks that he’s not doing too bad.

He’s gotten Gerard smiling almost completely all night and he hasn’t said more than a few rude things to Frank, so he’s counting this so far to be a success. His internal screaming is not exactly ideal, but Gerard’s not screaming at him, so it’s Frank’s fault that he feels like shit right now, not Gerard’s. Well, it’s partially the fact that Gerard is too stupid to see that Frank is, in a very dumb and completely hopeless way, coming on to him.

The thing that sucks though is that there’s one light. One light, right above Gerard. It’s dull, and it keeps flickering in and out, and the light is too-yellow and distorted to even be a good source of lighting, but it’s the way that it’s hanging over Gerard. It makes him look like an angel. Like the sun is shining directly on him, pointing him specifically out in a sea of different, less impressive faces. 

Frank’s not an idiot. He knows that, unbiasedly, there’s dozens of people in this room who are tons more typically attractive than Gerard. He knows that there are several who he could even have a shot with because there’s a few of them making eyes at Frank like he’s in some sort of display case. He knows that Gerard isn’t spectacular when you put everything in perspective, he’s got a lot of potential to be, Frank knows that for certain, but he’s just a pimply kid right now. He’s just a chubby, dorky, grudge-holding, rambling, stubborn, and not least of all snarky kid, that you could easily look over. He wouldn’t be the guy in the movie that the girl falls in love with, he would be the guy she’d take pity over. 

Frank knows that, and it kind of kills him inside, because he sees Gerard and it’s like looking at some sort of angel. He’s aware that other people look at Gerard with only the briefest amount of interest, and Frank thinks that he could read an entire encyclopedia series on what he had for breakfast on November the second in 2008. He’s in utter disbelief that there’s any human in the world who could somehow not be in love with Gerard. He thinks that everyone human needs to be for them to even be human, because Gerard’s too perfect. He’s too everything that Frank has ever wanted.

Frank’s not entirely proud of his assertiveness in the best of times, and if he feels that way in the ideal scenario, than he’s certainly not proud of his assertiveness in the worst of times. He sometimes wishes he could be like Pete, passive aggressive at best. Or at least that’s what he calls it when he throws a bowl of potato chips at you for beating him at Halo. Or Go Fish. It doesn’t really matter. Either way, he’s a sore loser.

He just can’t handle how much he wants Gerard to just open his eyes and see that Frank is crazy for him. He’s sick of it. He’s sick of having to pretend he doesn’t know that Gerard is pretending to hate him when he actually is in love with him and has been for years.

Frank likes Gerard, and that’s really where the story is left. That’s it. He likes Gerard. Frank is crazy for Gerard. He wants to date Gerard. He wants to be a dumb cliché couple that makes everyone around him gag, and he wants to hold the guys hand, and cry into his shoulder, and flick corn at him at the dinner table, and cream him at Mario Kart. He doesn’t give a shit about Gerard’s little game of hiding his feelings away. He’s done with that. He’s not into it. He doesn’t want to have to deal with it when it’s so obvious that Gerard does, in fact, like him. 

Gerard turns his head, huge smile plastered on his face with extreme intent like he’s been smiling for years and never wants to stop. Frank can’t blame him. He’s in a room surrounded by dozens of people who are all screaming for a band that he loves as much as anyone else, and he’s with the guy he likes who he thinks is unaware that he likes. Everything is great.

Gerard opens his mouth to say something, right at the beginning of strong, and ear splitting feedback from the shitty audio equipment that could honestly make a person punch someone in the face, but Frank interrupts him before he can say a single word. He doesn’t get a chance to say what he thinks of the song that Frank is completely alien too, or how awful he thinks the stereo is, or how on point the drummer’s hair is, because seriously, she could make a Pantene commercial feel bad about itself. Gerard doesn’t get a chance to say any of those things.

Frank kisses him.

Simple as that. Frank just leans in, with almost lightning speed, and that’s really that.

Frank doesn’t have that much time to savor much of anything. He’s too caught up in the adrenaline so it’s over before it even starts, which is an entirely inaccurate description of it, because it lasts for about fifteen seconds, which Frank would consider to be a success if he were capable of computing any second of it. 

He doesn’t however. Frank is entirely unaware of the way that Gerard is in dire need of chapstick, like seriously, has this guy ever moisturized ever? He’s completely ignorant to the way that Gerard’s eyes close almost immediately after his lips touch Frank’s. He’s absolutely oblivious to the fact that, despite how dry his lips are, the kiss is literally perfect in every way. It’s a kiss that was painstakingly designed by an over-working perfection seeking engineer intent on creating the most fantastic kiss that the world has or will ever see. Frank misses all of that, and instead only knows the panic of Gerard’s face in the moments following the kiss that puts all other kisses, including Westley and Buttercup’s, to shame.

“Oh my god!” Gerard says emphatically, and conveniently the last chord of the song rings out quietly so that Gerard can actually be heard without having to scream at the top of his lungs. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that, I shouldn’t of... and I just, god I’m sorry, I don’t even know why, or how it just... and I’m really really sorry, because... but you’re straight, and I’m just completely-”

Frank, sufficiently confused, because he’s pretty sure he was the one who kissed Gerard, cuts him off from rambling because he’s not making any sense at all. 

“Gerard!” Frank stops him before he says sorry one more time. “ _I_ was the one who kissed _you_!”

“You what?” Gerard asks, looking at Frank like he’s said something impossible.

“I kissed you,” Frank tells him.

“You... really?” He asks with sheer disbelief across his face.

“Yes!”

Gerard stares at the table for a moment and then looks back at Frank, completely unaware of anything around him that isn’t Frank. He’s not even aware of the glaring guitar behind him like a gunshot of sound. 

“I just assumed... I mean, you’re Frank Iero, no way you would kiss me. I just realized I was kissing you and figured I had to have been the one who did it... why would Frank Iero kiss me?”

“Why are you saying my name like that?” Frank asks, because Gerard keeps saying his name like he’s talking about someone important, like Obama or Queen Latifah.

“What?” Gerard asks, “I mean, you’re Frank Iero.”

“I know I am. You’re Gerard Way.”

“No,” Gerard shakes his head, and says, “I’m Gerard Way.” He says his own name in the way that you would say that you’ve recently been diagnosed with a yeast infection. 

Frank looks at him disapprovingly, “What the fuck are you even saying. You’re Gerard fucking Way.” Frank says his name like he’s talking about Elton fucking John and Gerard looks at him like he just punched a duck in the face. 

“No,” Gerard shakes his head, “You’re Frank-”

“I know my own name! The point is that I kissed you, and I think you’re pretty great even though you keep talking about yourself like you’re the gum at the bottom of a shoe. It’s starting to offend me.”

“Offend you?” Gerard asks. “Why?”

“Because you’re saying something shitty about someone I like, and it’s pissing me off.”

“I’m talking about myself.”

“Precisely, but I like you, and you’re being a jerk, so shut up,” Frank says.

“But I’m allowed to say that about myself, I am myself.”

“I can still be offended by it though, because it’s not nice!”

“Why would you kiss me though?” Gerard asks.

“Because I like you?” Frank says, feeling like that’s the only answer that there can be and it’s plainly obvious.

“Why would you like me though?” Gerard asks, and Frank is caught off guard by that, because he doesn’t have a mirror to shove into Gerard’s face as an explanation.

“Because I do.”

“Why would you like _me_ though?” he asks again. Frank’s starting to feel like rolling his eyes, but decides that’s probably not going to help him win his case here.

“Why wouldn’t I like you?”

“Do you have all day?” Gerard asks him.

“You’re a complete idiot.”

“That is reason number one,” Gerard says, and makes to start talking again, but Frank gives him a look that tells him to shut up.

“Really, what needs to be asked is whether or not you would mind me kissing you again?” Frank says.

“But you’re not into guys.”

“I think the fact that I just kissed you should tell you otherwise.” 

“But you dated girls. I know, I-” Gerard is about to say that he watched them with Frank and imagined ripping their heads off, but instead decides he shouldn’t. “So you like both?”

“No,” Frank says shaking his head, “Gerard, you’re not getting any of this. I like you, and that’s what matters. I was confused for a while, but I know, with absolute certainty that I like you.”

Frank can’t honestly believe how long this conversation has been. He’s been trying to convince Gerard he likes him for what feels like hours, but he’s not getting it. He’s refusing to see his own strengths, and instead completely overlooks every single feature and quirk that makes Frank lie awake at night with despair and desire. 

“So you kissed me because you like me?” Gerard asks, with the tone of him asking Frank if he’d solved a particularly difficult math problem correctly. 

“Yes.”

“And to be clear, you’re sure _I’m_ not the one who kissed you?” 

“I am positive,” Frank says.

“And you want to kiss me again?” Gerard asks.

“Yes.”

“Oh,” he says, looking at neither Frank nor at the space behind him, but seemingly at nothing at all, like he’s just looking at an empty canvas and trying to decide what needs to be done to it.

“Well?” Frank asks expectantly.

“Well what?”

“Can I kiss you?” Frank says, annoyed with how obvious that is.

“No,” Gerard says, frowning a little bit, which makes Frank feel like someone just murdered his entire family right in front of him. This is how it feels to watch Bambi’s mother die, except it’s worse.

“Oh,” Frank says, voice broken.

“No!” Gerard says like he’s panicking with Frank’s response, “because, I mean, you kissed me the first time. I’ve dreamt about kissing you since forever. Shit, I wasn’t going to tell you that. I mean, well, now you know. It’s not that I’m creepy, I just sorta liked you, but not in a perverse way or anything. But you kissed me, and fuck I want to kiss you this time, because that’s how I always pictured it when I- never mind!”

Frank thinks that he’d kind of really like to hear the end of that sentence, but he’s not going to pry if Gerard’s decided not to give up that information. What really matters is that Gerard wants to kiss him, and Frank is silently saluting Gee right now for the fact that it’s because of him that Frank ever looked twice at Gerard.

“Wait!” Frank says, and then he literally wants Gerard to smack him in the face, because did he seriously just stop himself from being kissed by Gerard? How stupid is he?

“What?” Gerard asks and he looks like he’s anticipating some awful punchline where Frank says that he was only joking and that, really, he doesn’t like Gerard.

“Fucking hell, I want to hold your fucking hand.”

“That is not how that song goes,” Gerard says.

“I’m going to punch you in the fucking face.”

“You keep using ‘fucking’ as a modifier, I don’t get it,” Gerard says, and Frank is seriously going to punch this guy in the fucking face.

So, he says, “I’m seriously going to punch you in the fucking face.”

“Right, sorry,” Gerard says, and Frank grabs his hand, because there’s no way he’s going to just _not_ now that he’s gotten Gerard’s attention. 

Frank has had many many many many many many dreams about the first time he’d kiss Gerard. He has also completely forgotten his first kiss with Gerard even though it was a minute ago. He could tell you several thousand different stories of how he imagined it.

One of those such stories is that he was going to walk out of school with Gerard, and then spontaneously throw him against a wall and kiss the shit out of him. Another story was that he would somehow convince Gerard to come to his house and he would play some variation of spin the bottle with only the two of them there and he would kiss Gerard and it would be perfect and they would begin writing the screenplay to their lives at that very minute. There’s also the story of how he would do that arm thing at a movie theater and kiss Gerard in the last row of the Magic Mike movie because one of them would have been like “hey let’s go see the movie with the half-naked men” and the other would’ve said “I didn’t see the first one” and then they’d have said “yeah, but half-naked men” and the other would say “touché,” and then Frank would kiss him and they’d get kicked out of the movie theater for dry humping or something equally as improbable. Another one of his plans was that he would find a way to push Gerard on a swing and then kiss him when he went Frank’s direction, and Frank never did quite manage to figure out how that would be possible, because surely, Gerard would just swing away a second later.

Frank’s made a billion stories that would warm the hearts of millions of teenage girls, but he never planned for the first kiss that he was self-aware enough to consider himself to be a part of to be quite so... awkward.

Frank’s pretty sure it’s because he’s putting too much thought into it. He can’t remember the first one enough, but he knows it was better than this, this can’t have been what it was like.

Frank pulls away a second later with seriously distressed eyebrows, and Gerard looks equally as concerned.

“I was expecting fireworks,” Frank says.

“Yeah, that was kind of off,” Gerard replies, “I think I went too far to the left.”

“Let’s try again,” Frank suggests, and Gerard doesn’t really pause before he’s kissing Frank again, and this is when Frank pinpoints the problem. 

He pushes Gerard back and says, “Fuck, you need some fucking chapstick, that’s the problem.”

“You’re insulting me?” Gerard asks, looking somewhat like a kicked puppy, and also somewhat like a teacher who’s just been told that the dog ate their students homework.

“Gimme a sec,” Frank says, and he reaches into his front pocket, before he pulls out his chapstick and hands it to Gerard who rolls his eyes at him.

“Frank,” Gerard says, looking down at it, “You use cookie flavored chapstick.”

“I allow myself certain luxuries, alright,” Frank says, “I don’t want the shit that tastes like candlewax!”

Gerard makes a face that says ‘I’m not judging you, but dude, I am totally judging you.’ He’s about to ask if it’s weird that he’s using Frank’s chapstick before he remembers that he did just stick his mouth on Frank’s mouth, so really, it’s not like it’s particularly weird. And really when it comes down to it, Gerard’s gay, his mouth has been weirder places.

“Alright, let’s try this again,” Frank says.

“I can’t believe this is so complicated,” Gerard says, almost being interrupted by Frank practically hurdling himself at him, and, alright, Gerard won’t admit it to his face, but Frank was right.

It’s not going to go down in the record books as one of the best kisses ever, but it’s easily the best kiss that Frank is aware of ever having. He’s pretty sure that that other one was spectacular, but he was not concentrating, so he tells himself not to forget to savor this one.

Gerard is a fairly decent kisser. Well, he’s the best kisser ever. Frank says that in the most ironic of senses though, because for some reason, Gerard is infinitely better than Gee. He’d been okay, but it’s kind of like the way a shoe doesn’t fit until your foot grows to fit it. Frank’s foot wasn’t big enough yet when he kissed Gee, right now, his foot is exactly the right size. It’s because Gerard is the age that Frank needs for him to be, and that makes him all the better. Because he is amazing. And Frank is going to allow himself to die here from lack of oxygen. He doesn’t care.

Gerard is a dick. Frank decides that he hates him, because he’s pulling away, something about not being able to breathe. Frank growls back at him, which just makes Gerard look guilty and Frank is feeling slightly possessive right now. Possessiveness is not a common feeling for him, because Frank generally refuses to believe that his friends are even his friends, nervous that they might decide otherwise if he says it too often. 

“I don’t get any of this,” Gerard says, looking away from Frank, at the stage, but Frank doesn’t know how he could possibly be concentrating on the music right now.

“Get what? What are you missing?”

“It’s just that,” Gerard says, sighing, “You ignored me for too many years and now you want to just kiss me? What’s going on, Frank? Honestly.”

“I...” Frank says, “I don’t know if I can tell you that. I mean, I could, but it’s a long story, and it’s crazy, and you’re not going to believe it, the point is that I like you. I have for, well, since that day at lunch. But trust me, I will tell you someday, and I’ll explain everything, and then you’ll understand why I put off the explanation, but it’s just not something that has to be dealt with at this very moment. What matters is that ever since I came up to you at lunch, I’ve been crazy about you.”

“Okay, there’s another thing. What the hell was that about? You were acting crazy.”

“I was having an off day,” Frank says.

“An off day? So you just decided to come up to me and tell me I looked like someone else?”

“So you haven’t forgotten about that, have you?” 

“No!” Gerard says, a bit too loudly.

“Why is it important?” Frank asks. “Why do you care when the point is that I like you, and I want to kiss you. I’ll do basically anything, Gerard, I really like you. The problem is that the explanation you need, I don’t have right this minute, because it’s a lot more complicated than just a few words. It’s just not important, why does it have to be? What is important is that I like you. Like a lot.”

“It’s important because it is Frank,” Gerard says, making a discontented face.

“Okay, so yeah, I phrased that a bit wrong, does it have to be important _now_? Right now, we’re here, we’re having fun, everything’s great, I’ve been trying to find the nerve to kiss you or hold your hand or fucking anything all night, and everything is great, but now you’re mad and I don’t know why and I’m like... I’m really sorry that everything is so messy, and I want to be able to tell you the whole story because it’s important, but I’m afraid if I tell you everything you won’t want to kiss me again, because it’s not like it’s bad or creepy or anything, it’s just a bit crazy, and it’s not something that you’re going to want to have to deal with, so I think it’s best if we just set it aside and talk about it when it becomes important, and-”

“Frank, oh my god, take a fucking breath,” Gerard says, because Frank didn’t breathe once during his rant. He’s a little purple in color.

“Sorry,” Frank says.

“Jeez, fine,” Gerard says, “I mean we have to talk about whatever the hell is going on with you later, but right now I’m living the dream, so fuck it.”

And, in his attempt to throw caution to the wind, Gerard kisses him again. Frank could definitely get used to this. He’s happy. He’s very happy. This is the good life. Gerard’s right, living the dream. 

Frank has this small feeling in his stomach that he really should have made a bet with Mikey on who could get their guy first, but it’s too late, so he’s not going to dwell on that now. Besides, there are more important things to focus on, like the tongue that is not Frank’s tongue in his mouth which is really a very good place for Gerard’s tongue to be, if you ask him.

So, Frank decides, he doesn’t care what trouble he’s going to find himself in later, as long as he has this moment now.

And it’s also important to note that this kiss dramatically beats the first one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment?


	26. What Dreams Are Made Of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fLUFF.

The day has taken somewhat of a strange turn from how it had originally started. Now when Frank looks at Gerard, Gerard is looking at him. When Frank blushes, looking away because of the stare Gerard’s giving him, Gerard beams at it. It’s so sudden, and Frank feels like this is really all that he actually wants.

“I didn’t think that this would ever actually happen,” Gerard says, grinning at him when Frank trains his eyes on him.

“You say that like I’m some sort of celebrity.”

“Forgive me for being starstruck,” Gerard replies.

Frank knows that he could just come out and say I love you right here and now and it would be true. It wouldn’t be a lie. He’d be telling the truth. Frank doesn’t want to be Ted Mosby, however, and he doesn’t know how Gerard would feel about that so quickly. Frank only just kissed him like an hour ago, expressing his eternal adoration might not be the best thing to do right now.

“You liked me,” Frank says, giggling. At this point the band on stage does not exist. It’s only Gerard, and it’s only Frank. The hundreds of other people in this building don’t exist. No one exists. No one else is there but him and Gerard. Frank would even bet that no one on the planet exists anymore who isn’t Gerard and him. 

“Shut up,” Gerard says, looking away finally, a red color all down his face.

“You liked me,” Frank says, almost gleeful, as Gerard shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling. 

“So did you,” Gerard says, “You liked me.”

“Yeah, but you’re cute about it. You’re all embarrassed and blushing. I’m not embarrassed, you’re amazing, I’d announce it anywhere that I liked you. Well, _like_.”

Gerard is still a pinkish color, but Frank grabs his hand and holds it in his own to take his mind off of it. Then Gerard is smiling again, a cute little shy one that he’s trying to hide.

“I hate you,” Gerard says, shaking his head.

“I know. But you hate me in a you-still-think-I’m-hot kind of way.”

“When did I ever say that I think you’re hot?”

“You said it with your eyes,” Frank says, laughing.

“You’re so full of shit,” Gerard replies, barely getting his words in because seriously Frank needs to kiss him. He needs to kiss him at all hours of the day. He’s got to permanently be attached to Gerard and the time enough for it. He doesn’t want to ever be apart from him. Frank’s never felt this way before about anything. He has a codependence of sorts with his phone, but it’s nothing like the way he feels about Gerard right now. Frank thinks that the instant Gerard’s gone, Frank’s going to feel the weight of the world and it’s going to break him in half. He’s not going to feel this happy ever again without Gerard.

Frank knows, even if he feels that way, it won’t be true. But if Gerard’s there than at least life is a little bit lighter. A little bit easier to handle. A little more enjoyable as well. Frank has it in him to at least survive without Gerard by his side every waking hour, but he so wishes that he won’t have to. Being in love has literally got to be the worst thing that’s ever happened to his priorities. 

“You can’t just kiss me to stop me making fun of you,” Gerard says.

“I can try.”

“Try again then.”

“I can do that,” Frank says. 

Fifteen minutes later, Gerard really can’t actually tell you whether or not the concert was any good or not. The first half of it he’d spent trying to pretend he wasn’t attracted to Frank, and then the rest had been spent in completely awe at the fact that Frank kissed him, and is still kissing him. 

It gets to a point where Gerard can’t actually believe that he’s sitting in Frank’s car what feels like a few seconds later. He missed the whole damn show. He’s not going to remember a single thing from tonight that isn’t the way that Frank looks in those jeans. 

Frank’s only thought about tonight is going to be the way that Gerard keeps looking at his ass as they leave the club. He’s not offended though, in fact, he makes a mental note to thank Brendon for forcing him to wear these exact pants. And he should also send a thank you note to his mother for giving him a fantastic butt. He’s not going to do either of those things, but the thought is still there. 

“My face is starting to hurt,” Gerard says. “I can’t stop smiling.”

“You have a good smile.”

“Oh my god this is so stupid! An hour and a half ago you were the straight guy I wanted to punch in the face, and now you’re the guy who keeps flirting with me, and I don’t get it, but I like it, so please, continue treating me like I’m your boyfriend.”

“Well would you want me to be?”

“Be what?” Gerard asks.

“Your boyfriend.”

“Would I want you to be my boyfriend? I don’t know... would you want to be _my_ boyfriend.”

“Well if you’re offering up the position and it isn’t taken than I would gladly accept it.”

“I didn’t say I was offering up the position.”

“Then I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t like you, what were you saying?”

“But like, if you wanted to be then I guess I could offer up the position,” Gerard says.

“Wait so you are offering it up?” Frank questions.

“I am now. Yes. Unless you don’t want it then I never liked you, and I’m totally cool.”

“But I do want it,” Frank replies.

“So you want to be my boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. That’s good,” Gerard says, and then the conversation stops. Frank looks out the window, hands still not having touched his keys to move the car anywhere. He’s not sure he wants to drive right now while his entire mind is focused on literally anything but Gerard. Pedestrians everywhere are in danger if Frank tries to move this car while thinking about the way that Gerard talks out of one side of his mouth. Or the way that he has literally the smallest, tiniest, most delicate and adorable voice ever. Or the way that his face lights up when someone starts talking about the X-Men. Or the look on his face when he hears a particularly bad pun. 

“So, wait, just to clarify, I am your boyfriend then, right?” Frank asks.

“Uh, you do want to be?” Gerard asks.

“Yes.”

“Then yes.”

“So I am your boyfriend,” Frank asks again, because the whole thing seems unclear to him and he’d rather be safe than sorry.

“Yes.”

“Okay, thank fuck, I was going to have some daytime soap opera worthy angst if I wasn’t,” Frank says, sighing. He’s kind of embarrassed that he actually had to clarify, in the way that one would when scheduling a get together at six through group chat.

“I’m pretty much certain that today isn’t real,” Gerard says, his forehead looking concerned at the dashboard. Frank, taking the queue, pinches Gerard’s hand. “Okay, so maybe it is. And never do that again or I’ll punch you in the face.”

“Fair enough,” Frank says, and he finally decides he’d better start driving otherwise he’s just going to sit here making out with Gerard for three hours and forget about driving home. Though, to be fair, that doesn’t exactly sound like a bad alternative.

“I’ve never had a pretty boyfriend before, this is exciting.”

“Well you still haven’t,” Gerard shrugs.

“I’ll push you out of the car, you know,” Frank says, pulling out of his spot and quickly after being blocked in by someone else trying to leave. This is another reason for why Frank feels like making out with Gerard in the backseat might just be simpler, and will cause him not to sentence so many people to death.

“Oh I will fuck them up,” Frank says, staring at the car in front of him. “I will literally murder their grandmother.”

“You’re rather violent, I don’t know that I was really aware of what I was signing up for before I agreed to it.”

“You do know you’re like really pretty though, right?” Frank asks him, still caught up on that, because this is vitally important. Gerard makes Frank’s heart stutter and his blood run cold, if he doesn’t think he’s cute than Frank is going to have to buy him a proper mirror.

“You can say what you like, but I think we both know who’d win a beauty contest.”

“Yeah I know. Probably Mikey, because we both know he’d cheat his fucking ass off.”

“He’s got a remarkably charming fake personality, he might not even need to cheat. He’s just got to use the tone of voice he uses when he lies to our mom.”

“You can lie to your mom?” Frank asks astounded, “ _How_?”

“Well, I can’t, but Mikey is an evil genius. He was actually shortlisted to play Dr. Evil.”

“You know, that doesn’t surprise me,” Frank says, as he’s finally able to get out of the parking lot, but not before he’s imagined the death of whoever’s driving that car at least thirty different ways, each more painful than the last.

“I think he’s more suited to be Voldemort though,” Gerard shrugs, “Mikey may have a nose, but he’s much more villainous.” 

“You know,” Frank says, “I’ve never had any kind of boyfriend at all. Cute or not.”

“So I technically _am_ the prettiest boyfriend you’ve ever had. But I am also the ugliest,” Gerard says.

“Not if you count that one time this kid at my mom’s office’s Christmas party flirted with me. He would definitely be up for the ugliest award. Like, I mean he was good looking enough but let me tell you, that guy was so in love with himself I’m surprised he wasn’t busy in the other room screwing himself with a mirror. He hated pop music, his favorite pastime was taking pictures of twigs, and he was writing a screenplay about a guy based on him who realizes that the reason he’s never really fit in is because he’s smarter than everyone around him.”

“Was this person actually just a guy who works at an organic food store? Was it that checkout guy at the Trader Joe’s? Don’t even tell me, let me guess, his favorite book was Infinite Jest, he used the word pastiche like a regular person would use the word fuck, and I’m sensing that he had a huge crush on James Franco.” 

“So you’ve met him,” Frank says.

“I’m pretty sure I dated him,” Gerard says, “before I snuck out the bathroom window of the restaurant.”

“Please tell me you ate dinner first and then left him with the check.”

“Please, I even milked dessert out of that twat,” Gerard says.

“You’re my hero.”

“Yeah, it was a bummer that I had to walk home though,” Gerard says, “but I never gave him my address so I still haven’t heard from him.”

“Why did you go out with him in the first place?” Frank asks.

“Well it’s not like he preemptively gave me a pamphlet about his shitty personality! How was I supposed to know?” 

“Well was he wearing a beanie?”

“No. He was wearing a Star Trek shirt.”

“Well that should’ve told you!” Frank groans. “You should’ve asked him who his favorite captain was and when he said Luke Skywalker you would have known!”

“I wasn’t thinking that far in advance. He was cute, I was distracted.” 

“Well if it helps any my answer is Picard, and I have never once in my entire life used the word pastiche.” 

“I guess that settles it then. I can already hear the wedding bells.”

Frank forces a really awful fake laugh from himself at that, because Gerard is seriously making it really hard for Frank not to just let it all out and tell him everything. But really, Frank only just got the guy to realize he likes him, so maybe he can hold off on the inevitable call Gerard is going to make to a psychologist. Frank really wishes that the truth weren’t so ludicrous. 

“You’re really great at handling a joke,” Gerard remarks.

“Sorry,” Frank says, and it’s almost a blessing that he has to drive so that he doesn’t have to look over at Gerard right now. He seriously wants to smack him for being so cute, and making Frank want to write poems about his hair.

Then Frank remembers that he’s apparently now Gerard’s boyfriend and he grins to himself, because this is so abrupt and amazing. He couldn’t have imagined today turning out the way it has, but now he’s sitting here with Gerard staring at him, Frank can feel his eyes on him, and Gerard is his actual boyfriend. 

Frank’s feeling somewhat jealous of the fact that Gerard’s dated people before, but he casts that thought away because it’s dumb. Of course he has, Frank has no grounds to be jealous of anybody. He doesn’t know how many people Gerard’s dated though. Or how far those relationships ever went. Frank’s blood turns to lead at the mere thought that Gerard’s probably kissed tons of boys and the only guy that Frank has ever kissed who wasn’t Gerard was still Gerard. 

But Gerard still had a crush on him after those relationships ended so they can’t have been too serious. But still, Frank can’t banish the fact that he wants to have been the first and only. Gerard is kind of that for him. Frank doesn’t like to include any girls he kind-of-sort-of-not-really dated, because there was never any actual potential there. 

Frank stops in front of Gerard’s house not too long after they’d left the club. Time is still on the fritz so Frank’s not sure if the ride feels really long or too short. He had gotten lost in Gerard’s long, mostly unimpeded rant about how much better the second Star Wars trilogy could have been if only they’d forced George Lucas to sit on a cactus. Frank low key agrees.

Frank doesn’t say anything as he parks the car, he just sort of stares in front of him and dreads the fact that Gerard is going to leave now. He would much prefer the whole making out in the backseat thing to having Gerard leave.

“Hey Frank,” Gerard says, “You could come in and hang out for a while if you want.”

Frank doesn’t know how to respond to that, because it forces a million and five different scenarios to flood into his head as to what Gerard intends for them to do if Frank were to come in and hang out for a while. But really, the biggest message on repeat in his head is the fact that it’s midnight and Gerard just invited him inside, and Frank doesn’t know how to feel about that.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Frank, I invited you inside, I didn’t invite you to hop on my dick,” Gerard says, apparently reading him better than Frank expected.

Frank turns pink and he looks anywhere but at Gerard, but it’s dark outside so the only thing he can actually look at is a lit window of his house, so someone’s probably awake in there. He hopes it’s not Mikey, but also hopes it is Mikey, and it’s hard to explain why he feels that way.

“Uh, okay,” Frank says. He’s not sure why, but he doesn’t want to say no. He doesn’t know what he wants really. He wants to hang out with Gerard longer, but he’s also terrified of what being alone with Gerard entails, not because he’s scared of Gerard, but because he’s scared of what being in Gerard’s house means. That makes everything way more real. That’s, on one hand, a good thing, but there’s multiple things that could go wrong. There’s a lot of thing that he could fuck up, or that he might let slip. 

“You can say no,” Gerard says, “I wasn’t ordering you or pressuring you or anything.”

“No but I want to,” Frank says, unbuckling his seat belt, and pushing open his car door. His legs still won’t allow him to stand up, but he’s proud of himself for doing that much. “I’m just not used to this. Like, I’ve seriously never had a boyfriend before, I don’t know what it’s like.”

“Mostly it’s like not knowing what to say because you don’t want to embarrass yourself and then accidentally getting into a really deep philosophical conversation about something stupid like the quality of Lee Pace’s eyebrows, or how much better Pacific Rim is than any other movie made ever by anyone.”

“It’s like 90% got to do with the fact that Idris Elba is in it.”

“No, it’s because of the fantastic platonic friendship between the male and female leads.”

“Or the undeniable homoerotic subtext between the guy from It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia and the dude with a stick up his ass.” 

“Yeah, see this is what it’s like. And also making out and quite a bit of calling each other names, but we can’t do that while you’re sitting there, so get off your ass, Iero!”

“I can still call you names from here,” Frank replies, “fuckwad.”

“Congratulations,” Gerard says, “but which would you rather do?”

“I’m getting up,” Frank says, pulling himself up, and slamming the car door closed. Gerard grins at him, looking magical in the half light of a waning moon. Frank’s pretty sure that this is what Hilary Duff was singing about in that one song from the Lizzie McGuire Movie. This is, indeed, what dreams are made of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But in all seriousness, I'm always a slut for Pacific Rim.


	27. Frank Has No Chill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where they are a Taylor Swift song.

Frank is not looking at Gerard’s butt as they walk up the stairs, what on earth would give you that idea? He has so much chill, it’s unreal. 

Gerard even says, before the first step, “So like, it’s your turn to stare at my ass, but like, that’s fine, I don’t expect anything less.”

“I’ve been given your actual permission?”

“You’re a human, what am I supposed to think you’re going to do?” Gerard says, his voice calling out from in front of him as he climbs the stairs. “Not look?”

“You’re fantastic. I think I’m gonna marry you,” Frank says, commending himself on his excellent joke. He actually does think, or really _knows_ , he’s going to marry Gerard, someone up above him who’s in on this whole shitstorm is probably laughing with him right now at how beautiful a joke he just made. Really though, it’s not even a good joke and Frank shouldn’t feel this much pride.

This house is very much outdated, from what little Frank’s seen of it. He can just imagine the snooty asshole voices of people walking through this house on House Hunters. He kind of wants to punch those people in the face though, because this house is so unbelievably Gerard that it hurts.

The whole place is carpeted, something that hasn’t been in style since at least the mid-seventies. Frank’s pretty sure that the only room that wasn’t carpeted was the kitchen which he only briefly glanced into, and it was in dire need of some new tile. On that note, when was green tiling ever in? It looks like a grandmother’s house, and Gerard’s personality, somehow resembles that of a grandmothers also, which is why Frank is grinning widely at literally everything. 

The unbearably thin staircase that leads up stairs displays a gallery of pictures, Mikey on the left, Gerard on the right, and with each step, the pictures age with him. Gerard made a very adorable first grader, Frank notes.

“Do we have to worry about waking up your parents?” Frank asks, thinking back to his home where he shares a wall with his mother and she can literally tell if he turns a page in a book past midnight.

“Their room is downstairs. Unless you’re actually playing DDR in Mikey’s room, they can’t hear shit.”

“We should totally play DDR in Mikey’s room,” Frank says, when Gerard stops on the landing, and Frank is quick to follow. 

“I don’t think we even have a DDR mat,” Gerard says, “because, surprisingly, I’m not a ten year old kid.”

“Well I am,” Frank says, “in my heart.”

“Aren’t we all,” Gerard says.

“Fuck,” a muffled voice says from a room on Frank’s left, and he grins to himself because he’s just spotted where Mikey is. 

“So that’s where the troll lives,” Gerard points to Mikey’s room. There’s only four doors on the landing, and Gerard’s room is obvious because there’s a sticker on the top of the door that says ‘Gerard’s Lair’ in handwriting that he recognizes from the note that Gerard hasn’t written him yet. One of them must be a bathroom, and it’s anyone’s guess what the last one is.

Gerard points to one, and says, “linen closet. Do not open that thing unless you want to be physically assaulted by towels that were not properly stacked by someone. I’m not saying it was me, but, coincidentally, I don’t know how to properly fold and sort towels.” Gerard then points to the last door and says it’s the bathroom, his note on that being that if you don’t close the door properly, it flies open because the floors are uneven and everything is at somewhat of an angle. You can also, apparently, roll a ball down the hallway just by setting it on the ground and waiting. 

Gerard then knocks on Mikey's door and he doesn’t wait before Mikey says anything to open it. Frank doesn’t know whether to stand next to Gerard and say hi to Mikey or pretend he’s not here at all. But presumably, Mikey already knows Frank’s here, because if Frank could hear Mikey behind the door, Mikey could hear him.

“Okay so let me guess,” Gerard says as Frank goes to stand next to him to peak into Mikey’s room, “Pete is either under the bed or in the closet.”

“Take a guess,” Mikey replies, barely even glancing at Frank. Mikey’s room is a mess, and Frank is pretty sure that there’s no way that Pete could possibly be under his bed because Frank is certain that there’s already a mountain of shit that was not properly put away under there.

“Closet,” Gerard says.

“Damn it!” Pete’s voice comes from the closet and Frank doesn’t know why he’s surprised. Of course Pete’s here, of course he is.

“I told you it was pointless,” Mikey says to the closet where Pete comes out, which is the second time that Frank’s experienced him doing that, but it’s far more literal this time. 

“Why does it smell like socks in there?” Pete asks.

“Probably because that’s where I put all my socks so they don’t stink up my room,” Mikey shrugs.

“Gross,” Frank says.

“Oh if you think this place is a train wreck,” Mikey says, “just you wait until you see Gerard’s room.”

“I knew there had to be a vice somewhere,” Frank says.

“Well that and his personality,” Mikey says.

“Hi Frank,” Pete says, waving at him like they randomly bumped into each other in a Walmart. This is a weird place for Frank to find him he supposes, or at least it would be if he didn’t know that the two of them are basically in love with each other.

“Hey,” Frank says.

“So how’re things?” Pete says in a voice that he’s honestly trying his hardest to make casual, but he’s so bad at it. Frank’s ears hurt at how obvious the question he’s actually asking is.

“You don’t need to worry, I made out with him,” Frank says.

“Really?” Pete asks, looking relieved. This is almost definitely because he’s bad at keeping secrets, not because he’s actually relieved that Frank made out with Gerard.

“Yeah,” Frank confirms.

“Great,” Pete says, “I’ll be texting Brendon and Ray momentarily.” 

“I assumed as much.”

“So how about you two then?” Gerard asks. 

“What about us two?” Mikey asks, giving Gerard this evil glare that would most definitely cause him to have been burned at the stake if they lived in Salem circa 1692.

“Oh my god,” Gerard says, sounding so fed up with the two of them that it almost hurts Frank’s ears. Frank is proud of himself. He won the bet that didn’t exist. 

“I’m missing something,” Pete says, frowning.

“You’re so stupid,” Gerard sighs, under his breath.

“It’s nothing Pete,” Mikey says, shaking his head and looking at Pete like one would look at the cutest cat in all of existence. 

“We’re just going to leave you two,” Gerard says.

“Yeah whatever,” Mikey says. “Don’t be too loud.”

“No we’re not gonna-” Frank starts, panicked, but Mikey starts laughing at him, so he just decides to leave it. The Way’s are on some next level mind reading shit that Frank doesn’t need to get involved in. Not yet at least.

Gerard just rolls his eyes at Frank, and steps out of the doorway to close it behind him. Frank is somewhat relieved to not be with Mikey and Pete anymore, because that means he has Gerard to himself and there are several things he wants to do with Gerard that require being alone.

“I honestly did not think you and I would beat them,” Frank says quietly, because he doesn’t want them to hear. “I thought they wouldn’t be this stupid.”

“It’s probably Pete’s fault you know. Mikey’s not exactly subtle when it comes to these things. It’s almost definitely because of Pete’s complete and utter lack of reading the signs. I’ll bet you that Mikey has actively flirted with him, and I mean hardcore shit, like laughing at the bad jokes, fixing his hair _for_ him, and maybe even a wet T-shirt contest or two, but Pete is so completely bad at reading him that Mikey literally needs to stick a tongue down his throat before he’ll so much as think Mikey might like him.”

“Are you sure you’re not the one who’s been Pete’s friend for his entire life?” Frank asks, because that was a freakily accurate analyzation of Pete’s skills in reading social situations.

“He’s easier to read than a children’s book,” Gerard says.

“You have a valid point,” Frank says as Gerard opens his door. Frank is not surprised by the scene that he is met with. He also has to check the window, just to be sure that he didn’t miss some freak tornado that just rampaged through the room.

“Oh my god. Does Alice Cooper sleep in here part time?”

“I have never once thrown a TV out the window,” Gerard says.

“So you don’t deny the other things,” Frank says, “You really live the life of a rock star don’t you? Just fewer groupies and a lot less sex.”

“That’s not my fault,” Gerard says, “I am always open to sex, it’s just that no one wants to take me up on that offer.”

“How about I give you a raincheck,” Frank says.

“Fair enough, but I’m taking that seriously,” Gerard says.

“That’s alright with me.”

“Well okay then,” Gerard says, blushing only a little bit as he walks over to his bed with expert ease that can only come from seasoned experience of this obstacle course of a landfill. 

“This is the most I’ve ever learned about your personality in a small timeframe,” Frank says, looking around Gerard’s room. Someone, probably someone who was partially blind, painted his room a long time ago, the color of a very pale but still radioactive Kermit the Frog. It’s so green that Frank is pretty sure that you could lose Mike Wazowski if he were to stand with his back against it. That is, you’d lose him if Gerard weren’t a poster hoarder.

Frank’s not capable of comprehending just how many posters he’s got covering his walls, and the range of different brands is startling. Everything from Rocky Horror to Scott Pilgrim to The Clash to Toy Story 3. Either his favorite poster, or his most recent one is the gigantic Marvel superhero collection which is, Frank thinks, the only poster that isn’t being overlapped by another four posters in some way.

“Oh my god, you could hold comic con in here,” Frank says giddily. “How do you have sex with Buzz Lightyear staring at you like that?”

“That’s what this nifty little invention called a light switch is for.”

“Gerard, I’m literally making direct eye contact with David Bowie right now, how do you deal? Don’t his eyes watch you changing? Is Morrissey going to know if you jerk off? Will Buffy Summers judge you if you dance around your room to Uptown Funk? These are some serious questions.”

“Okay, but you want to know what the question that you have to actually worry about is?”

“What?”

“Will Joan Jett judge me if I make out with you?” Gerard asks.

“You know, I don’t think it really matters what she thinks.”

“Well in that case-” 

“No!” Frank says, a little too loudly, “No! Wait wait, I just thought of the best joke ever, are you ready. Oh my god. Hold onto your hat.”

“I’m not wearing a hat.”

“Hold onto it anyway, cause this is going to blow your mind.”

“Alright Frank, lay it on me.”

“I don’t give a damn ‘bout her condemnation.”

“Oh my god,” Gerard says, either wanting to punch Frank in the face or wanting to tear his clothes off, but likely a combination of both. Gerard leans over and he grabs Frank by the belt buckle which is... different, and it gives him the butterflies. Frank all but swoons as he’s pulled closer to Gerard to a point where he literally falls on top of him on the bed. He feels weightless and he is sure that this is the same feeling you would get if you could actually fly. That’s what it feels like to be pulled on top of him and Frank is _dying_ because it is not legal to be this good a kisser.

Someone, probably Mikey, Frank just knows it, throws something at Gerard’s door and shouts, “I told you to be quiet.” It’s Mikey.

“Well fuck but we were going to recreate the Trojan War in here, complete with sound effects.” 

“Well bad luck for you,” Mikey shouts back.

“So then no war reenactments, how about extremely loud sex?”

“That’s even worse!”

“You’re telling me sex is worse than war?” Gerard asks, and Frank is laughing, the sound being muffled into Gerard’s shoulder.

“It is when it’s you two!”

“You have a staggeringly skewed sense of morality, baby bro.”

“You’re gross,” Mikey shouts back.

“Well it’s nice to see that you two can hold an intelligent conversation,” Frank says, “Is this what it’s like to have a sibling?”

“No,” Gerard says, “having a sibling entails that you sit on each other and steal the TV remote. This is just what it’s like to live across from someone.”

Frank decides that he doesn’t really care, and he leans down to kiss Gerard again. Either Mikey is gone or he’s waiting to give Frank a false sense of security. Frank does not care. What he does care about is that he’s found the holy grail of good kissers.

He knows that, in all likelihood, he’s got literally his entire life ahead of him to kiss Gerard, but that doesn’t mean that it’s hard to hold back now that he’s allowed to. He could kiss Gerard at all times of the day. Frank could make out with him in class and he wouldn’t even care that he’d probably get detention. Then he would have detention with Gerard, and that’s literally the opposite of a bad thing. Frank’s had detention before, the art teacher literally never comes in to check on people so Frank could just make out with Gerard for an hour. He’s starting to think that this is a good idea until he realizes that instead of getting detention they could just come here and make out in Gerard’s room and that way there is no voyeurism involved. 

“This is probably the best day of my life,” Frank notes when Gerard pulls away to breathe, because apparently being in love doesn’t spare you from needing oxygen. 

“It’s not even today anymore, its tomorrow. Or, I mean, like its past midnight so it’s not... you know what I mean.”

“It’s not tomorrow until I wake up,” Frank says.

“Well in that case keep kissing me. Let’s _really_ make this a night to remember.”

Frank makes a literal groaning sound in his throat because this boy could not get any hotter. Frank can’t think of a single situation in the world that could make Gerard any less attractive. If he asked Frank to help him steal a car, Frank would probably think it was the cutest thing said by any person ever. Gerard could literally murder Frank’s mother and he’d probably giggle and blush over how cute his smile is.

As it is, Frank laughs airily, the kind of laugh typically heard when one is extremely high, and Gerard practically snorts back at him. 

“Oh my god, so it looks like I’m not going to be the embarrassing one in this relationship.”

“No, but you’re gonna be the one who has to put up with having an embarrassing boyfriend,” Frank says.

“I’ll learn to deal,” Gerard says, which only makes Frank groan again and he’s seriously never been so happy in his life before now. Frank has been longing for this for a while, and only now is he finally able to understand why he’s been craving this. This is worth all the money in the world and then some. 

Frank, for his entire life up until this point, has had a lot of trouble picturing his future. He’s never been able to picture himself in a cubicle job, or being a suburban dad with a huge lawn and a doggy door. He’s always found the mundane thought of a nine to five job and an unspectacular paycheck as being absolutely nightmarish. He gets it now though. As tedious as it sounds, it sounds nice, charming even. As long as Gerard is there with him than he doesn’t see how that could be a bad life at all. It actually sounds kind of fantastic.

Really, Frank can’t imagine anything bad happening with Gerard there with him, and Frank direly hopes that someday Gerard will be able to understand those feelings as well.

But for now, this is okay too. Kissing Gerard with no expectancy that anything else is going to happen right now is fine. Lying here with him is great, magical even. Frank is excited about his future with Gerard, but he’s more enthralled by the present with him, because this is all that he actually has control over.

“Fuck, my life is a Taylor Swift song,” Frank says.

“I don’t see how that’s a bad thing.”

“It isn’t,” Frank says, “I just never thought that I’d be this cliché.”

“You’ll live. Just, like, shake it off.”

“I hate you so much,” Frank frowns, and then continues to kiss the everloving fuck out of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing to write here today. In the comments, let us discuss our favorite Hayley Williams hairstyle. My personal favorite was Monumentour blue.


	28. Potential

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard and Frank are stupid.

“Well this isn’t at all how I planned on my Saturday turning out.”

Frank, who has not opened his eyes yet because that doesn’t sound like something he wants to do, kind of just wants to stay here and never move. He’s very warm. He’s warmer than he usually is when he wakes up. It’s a nice kind of warm but it’s foreign. Frank can only remember this happening once before.

“Gerard?” Frank groans, still not moving.

“Yeah?”

“Oh okay so you are there then,” Frank replies. He’d kind of thought that maybe he’d been dreaming about hearing his voice.

“What do you think?” Gerard asks.

“Well I just thought it might be a dream or something. So then yesterday happened, right?” 

“Yeah,” Gerard says, “well otherwise the fact that you’re in my bed would be much more peculiar than it already is.”

“Weird in a good way though?”

“Yes. Why are you not opening your eyes? I’m not _that_ ugly.”

“No!” Frank says, “I’m really comfy, I don’t want to disrupt anything. I also don’t really want to be awake. Are we going to have to move?”

“Eventually.”

“Ugh, that sounds awful.”

“If it’s any consolation, we get to go pick on Pete and Mikey.”

“Well that’s something. Where did Pete sleep? Do you think he slept in Mikey’s bed? Do you think they cuddled?”

“If they did, then Pete will still deny it to himself that Mikey likes him,” Gerard says.

“You think Pete will still doubt Mikey’s intentions on their wedding day? Like he’s going to get up there and be like ‘hey Mikey, you sure that this isn’t some kind of misunderstanding?’”

“If they have a wedding day, I suppose that’s likely.”

“What do you mean ‘if’?” Frank asks.

“Well, I mean, we’re teenagers. What are the odds that any of us are going to still know each other in ten years, let alone be married to each other?”

“What do you mean?” Frank asks, feeling a little insulted.

“Well like,” Gerard says, sounding flustered at Frank’s response, “I mean, you and I probably won’t know each other in like two years, let alone whenever either of us get married, in like ten.”

“Five years, actually,” Frank says.

“What?” 

“Never mind,” Frank says, a little panicked because he knows that they’re going to get married in five years, but Gerard doesn’t, so Frank should brush over that bit. 

“Frank, I think that’s wishful thinking though,” Gerard says.

“So we’re not going to know each other in five years at all?” Frank asks.

“Well, I mean, logically.”

“That’s a really shitty thing to say,” Frank says, finally opening his eyes.

“What?”

“You’re amounting whatever the hell this is right now to your shitty little cynical point of view. Basically, you’re saying that this can lead nowhere.”

“I think you’re taking that out of proportions a bit, aren’t you?” 

“No,” Frank replies, “What’s the point of even being here if it can’t lead anywhere, huh?”

Frank would very much like to stay in this position forever. Gerard is warm, and he’s safe, and he’s there, but Frank thinks he’s being a little shitty right now. It was one thing for Brendon to say it, someone who Frank has no intention of being romantic with, but someone who he actually likes and is supposed to end up with literally says to his face that it won’t work, that’s not something he can just swallow and accept. 

Frank knows that even if Gerard says one thing, Frank knows another. But the very thought that right now Gerard doesn’t believe in them enough to even give it a shot past high school, is making him sick. 

“Well like, Frank-”

“What?” Frank asks, and that’s it before he’s pulling himself away from Gerard, trying to get out of his bed with some amount of composure, but he knows that he has bed head, and he’s also fairly sure that his pants are falling down which seems impossible since they’re practically sewed onto him.

“Oh my god, what did I do?”

“Gerard, just tell me, honestly. Do you think there’s any future for us after senior year?”

“Frank we’re only eighteen.”

“That is not an answer!” Frank insists.

“Well, I mean, odds aren’t really in favor of-”

“Oh my god,” Frank says, resisting from either smacking himself in the head or grabbing the action figure on Gerard’s nightstand and throwing it at him.

“Frank, I mean, I’m not going to lie.”

“Gerard, you’re saying that this is pointless.”

“I don’t mean that though!” Gerard says, pulling himself up onto his feet because it’s hard to have an argument when you’re lying in bed covered in a Star Wars duvet. 

“What do you mean then?”

“I just mean, that, like no one really stays friends with people they knew in high school. Some people I suppose, but we’re not, or at least _I’m_ not all that special.”

“You’re really making this better for yourself, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Gerard, you don’t date someone if you don’t at least hope, somewhere in the back of your mind, at least that maybe it’ll be forever. Like you don’t just date someone because you want to not be with them for a while and then ditch them, or if you did you’d be kind of an ass, so why the fuck would you say to my face that you don’t believe that we have anything that could last?”

“I wasn’t trying to insult you-”

“But you did!”

“You keep interrupting me,” Gerard says.

“I’ll stop when you stop say something that makes me want to kick your teeth in.”

“You’re seriously pissed at me because I don’t think I’m going to marry the guy I’ve been dating for about fourteen hours?” Gerard asks.

“You don’t even understand why I am angry at you. This is fucking fantastic,” Frank says, literally pitying himself at this whole situation.

“Well then explain it to me! I want to know.”

“Gerard, if there isn’t even a glimmer of potential in a relationship then that relationship is not worth having. I mean, yes there are exceptions, but not in these circumstances. If you genuinely do not think there is any way you and I could ever beat some stupid ass statistic that old white people probably made up to scare us away from high school relationships, than I don’t think I care to even mess around to see what’s here.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, Gerard, that if you’re incapable of imagining anything with me past graduation, because you’re that uninhibitedly pessimistic, then you and I can shoot this horse before it gets out of the gate, and you can also go fuck yourself for leading me on.”

“I’m not leading you on!” Gerard says, turning around as if to get support from one of the people on one of the posters behind him, “I like you, I mean I can’t exactly pretend that I don’t, can I?”

“Liking me is different from saying that you don’t think you could ever possibly like me enough to have a real relationship with me.”

“Frank, I like you, but I’m still a fucking kid! I barely know what I want to go to school for, how can I tell you if I want to get married to you?” 

“I’m not asking for a marriage proposal, Gerard, I’m asking for the assurance that you’re not going to dump me in three months just because you’re too chicken to test the odds. I don’t want you to get on your knees with a ring, I’m not asking for that, I don’t want it, okay? That’s not something I’m even close to wanting right now, I just want to know that there is somewhere that this relationship can go besides in the garbage bin.”

“I can’t make that promise,” Gerard says.

“Then what’s the point in this?” Frank asks.

“Why can’t we just, like, have fun?”

“We can’t have fun if I have to worry about you being a dick and breaking up with me at the end of the year. I’m not asking for anything even that hard here, Gerard. I’m not asking you to go to the same school as me, or for you to give me an engagement ring or for literally anything beyond you telling me that you won’t ditch me because you have so little faith in whatever feelings we may have in each other.”

“I’m not lying to you, Frank. I don’t believe that can make this situation any better.”

“So what you’re saying is that you won’t tell me that. You won’t tell me that you’re going to put any effort into the success of this relationship.”

“I’m not saying that, I’m saying that I can’t guarantee you a future that I don’t know anything about.”

“For fucks sake, you are still avoiding my question. Gerard, yes or no, is there any part of you that actually believes in us?”

“Us?” Gerard asks.

“Our whatever the fuck this is. I don’t think relationship is really a proper term, because I’ve just realized that I’m the only one putting any effort into it.”

“Okay now that’s not fair.”

“Not fair? It’s not fair that I say the truth?”

“It’s not the truth, I want to put effort into this, but you’re being way too, ugh, I don’t even know.”

“I’m asking for the smallest thing possible and I’m being too demanding?”

“You’re asking me if I think I’m going to marry you!” Gerard says, completely missing the point.

“I’m asking you if you think there’s any potential in us at all. Not marriage. _Potential_.”

“Well in that case, I don’t know,” Gerard replies.

“You’re an asshole,” Frank says, shaking his head. “Gerard, if you continue to deflect my question, I have no choice but to assume that you don’t care about whatever this could be.”

“And what would that mean?”

“That I can’t be around you.”

“You can’t be around me?”

“Gerard, I thought yesterday when we were talking about you and I being boyfriends, that there wasn’t going to be a set-in-stone expiration date on that. I thought that maybe you actually cared enough about me to give me more than a bitchy goodbye on the last day of school, but what I’m getting here is that you don’t believe I’m worth even trying to make things work with. If that’s the case, than I agreed to something before I read the fine print, but the good thing is that this isn’t as much of a binding thing. So I don’t think I’d be breaking up with you, I’d just be fixing a mistake that I made.”

“I’m a mistake?”

“You are when you say things like this.”

“Fine then,” Gerard says, “what do I care?’

“I don’t know, I thought maybe there was some part of you that might give a shit.”

“Well apparently I don’t like you,” Gerard says, “or at least, that’s all you’ve said the past few minutes, so I guess that’s how I feel.”

Gerard’s door opens before Frank has time to respond, and Mikey is standing there looking very confused, and also incredibly concerned, which Frank has to admit, is probably the most expressive look he’s ever seen on the guys face.

“What do you want?” Gerard asks, in a voice that Frank would very much associate with an older sibling.

“You two are yelling, mom wanted me to find out why,” Mikey says, looking almost timid under Gerard’s glare. “And also if you wanted breakfast.”

“It’s not important,” Gerard says.

“Wow,” Frank says, “not important?”

“Frank, you know what I mean.”

“Evidently, I _don’t_.”

“I’m not saying you’re not important.” 

“But you’re saying that this conversation is unimportant,” Frank says, “like the fact that you’re a gigantic asshole who’s probably going to end up alone because of your astounding commitment issues isn’t important.”

“Oh my god, you’re barely even listening to me.”

“Well it’s an even distribution then, isn’t it? I’m not listening to you because you refuse to respond to the questions I’m asking.”

“So neither of you want waffles then,” Mikey interrupts.

“Just, fuck,” Frank groans, “Gerard, I can’t do this right now.”

“Right now or at all?”

“Both,” Frank says.

“So you’re breaking up with me.”

“I’m barely even going out with you.”

“But you’re breaking up with me!” Gerard says, “After I literally confessed to you that I like you. I said it like a billion times, because it’s true. Well I’m not so sure about it now, but I know that I thought I liked you.”

“Yeah well, Gerard, I like you but I’m not willing to be in a relationship that I know you don’t believe will go anywhere.”

Gerard doesn’t respond. He just stands, staring at Frank. Frank’s back is turned to Mikey so he doesn’t know what he’s doing or what he’s thinking about, but Frank also doesn’t care. He cares about Gerard being a huge dick right now and doesn’t know how to deal with the fact that he’s been Gerard’s boyfriend for less than twenty four hours and is already fighting with him. 

“Fine,” Frank says, and he turns to the door. He only stops just before leaving to say, “Oh and Gerard, here’s a tip, if you like someone, and you want to date them, do not tell them that you don’t think it’s going to fucking work out in the end, you gigantic asshole.”

“Frank-” Gerard says, but Frank’s not listening. He does what he thinks would technically be classified as storming off. He hurries down the stairs, out the front door, collecting his keys from his pocket as he comes outside and is met with a bright sun. He’s forced to squint as he heads to his car, trying not to worry about the fact that he probably looks like he just woke up. At least he’s wearing normal clothes and not pajamas because that would be some first impression to leave on Gerard’s neighbors across the street who are gardening.

The front door of the house behind him opens with a creak and Frank sighs, not excited in having to deal with Gerard again, but when he turns, Gerard’s not standing there.

“Hey Frank, I was wondering if you could give me a ride home? I’m not really keen on having to call my mom to pick me up, like, Mikey is going to think I’m a little kid if I do that,” Pete says, looking at Frank sheepishly.

“You know, now’s not a really great time for me to drop you off,” Frank says, “I kind of just need to be alone for now.”

“Oh, okay,” Pete says, trying not to look kind of hurt. 

Frank walks around his car, pulling the door open before Pete speaks up again, and Frank doesn’t want to be near him at all right now. It’s nothing against Pete it’s just that human interaction sounds awful in general.

“Hey Frank,” Pete says, “I mean, I know that my opinion doesn’t really count that much, but, like, you know that Gerard really does like you, right?” 

“Yeah, Pete, I get that,” Frank says, sighing, and barely believing it.

“Whatever’s going on, I’m sure you can work it out.”

“Sometimes it’s not that easy,” Frank says, and he feels like he’s talking to a child. Not that Pete is that childish, it’s just that, he feels like a parent when he says that. 

“But the point isn’t that everything is perfect in the relationship. The point is that you enjoy the other person, even if it’s not in a romantic way. It’s just important that you like to spend time with them and they make you smile. If it’s perfect something’s not right, because that doesn’t exist, but that’s never been the point. All that really matters is that you like each other, in whatever way you do like each other, and that you are good to each other.”

“I gotta go, Pete,” Frank says, turning back to get into his car.

“Okay, but just like, before you go, I just want you to know, even if things between you and Gerard don’t work out, and I’m not saying they won’t, but in any case, I just want you to know that I’m still your friend. I’m still here, and I’m not going to go anywhere else, okay? Because, uh, I don’t like you in a romantic sort of way but I still like you more than most people I know and I want you to be happy, so I’m always going to be here to make you happy in whatever way I can.”

Frank sighs, “You’re a really good person Pete. Don’t let anyone make you forget that.”

Frank pulls his car door shut, and he doesn’t have the heart to look back at the house, or even at Pete, as he drives the hell away from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, they're both stupid.


	29. Rated Gee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing that ice cream can't fix.

“You are so unbelievably stupid, I can’t even begin with you. I have never in my entire life used this word, Frank, so I’m losing my word virginity here with this, but believe me when I say that you are a Grade A, justifiable, nincompoop,” Mikey says.

“I’ve never even heard that word used,” Frank replies.

“Neither have I, but you deserved it. There’s no other word, and also it has the word poop in it so it’s already an amusing word to begin with.”

“Well, you are definitely the younger brother, I can see that much.”

“No you can’t, you can’t see me at all. But believe me, the next time I do see you, you had better believe that I am going to kick you in the fucking face.”

“How are you gonna reach?”

“Frank, you’re like, what, about two feet tall? I think I’ll manage,” Mikey replies. 

“I am literally the same height as your boyfriend,” Frank replies, rolling his eyes at his phone.

“That is not true. Pete is like a millimeter taller than you,” Mikey says.

“Oh my god, seriously? He even brags about that millimeter to you?”

“Well, he talks about it a lot, he’s really proud of the fact that he’s taller than you,” Mikey says. “It’s so cute. Like he-”

“I didn’t ask for details!” Frank says, interrupting before he pukes. 

“Well fine, but we still need to talk about how much of an ass you are. You know how unfair it is to Gerard that you know things he doesn’t? You and I both know that you’re going to marry him, okay? But Gerard does not know that, so you expecting to hear him say it is not fair to him. Gerard has not been given the same information that you have been given. So, what that means is you’ve got to treat this situation like you don’t know the outcome. Otherwise, you’re cheating. You’re being a bitch to him because you’re holding him to a standard that he doesn’t know exists. I get that you like him, I don’t know why, but I’ve accepted the fact that you do, so try to remember that even if you know what’s going to happen, you’ve got to pretend for his and your own sake that you are just as clueless about the future as he is.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that right now, Gerard would probably dump me at the end of the year,” Frank says. “How can I date someone if I know that he’s going to ditch me for a fresher model at his new school?”

“He doesn’t know any better, dude, you can’t expect him to look that far in advance yet. You know what your future has in store for you, but Gerard is almost completely clueless. Do not allow yourself to hold him to an unrealistic standard when he is not holding _you_ to one.”

“Listen dude, I’ll deal with this all later, right now I just want to take my mind off of things, okay?”

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

“It’s none of your business, Mikey,” Frank says.

‘But I-”

Frank hangs up before Mikey has a chance to reprimand him any further. From what he gathered of what Mikey had said, Gerard is in his room grumbling to himself about Frank, and refusing to talk to anyone about it. Even Mikey, who should be hired on the spot as a police interrogator, can’t get anything out of him. 

Mikey’s name glares at him from his phone again, but Frank rejects the call before the ringtone even starts. He doesn’t need to deal with Mikey now. He doesn’t want to deal with anybody. He wants to just not think at all. Frank turns his phone off, and immediately regrets it, but he doesn’t even consider turning it back on. He doesn’t need to deal with anyone, besides, he’s likely to tell someone to do something extremely unsafe involving a cactus, and he doesn’t even think a telemarketer deserves that. 

Instead he lays his head back on his bed, groans, and tries to think of something to distract himself. 

Frank eventually settles on blaring his music as loud as it can go, which probably pisses off his mother to no end but she doesn’t say anything about it. Frank should really have been grounded for staying out all night, or he would if he lived in a normal household, but his mom is about as close to an actual saint that there ever could be.

Frank, because he’s technically an adult who is free to make his own choices, then cries into his pillow for a couple of minutes before getting tired of it and just staring at his ceiling. 

Frank’s house isn’t entirely old as much as it is a tad bit outdated. They have a popcorn ceiling in every room of the house. Frank doesn’t think anything of it, but his mother thinks it’s the ugliest thing known to man. He doesn’t get it. The fun thing about a popcorn ceiling though is that it’s a lot like having clouds on the top of your room. You get to find shapes out of the bumps, even though you’re the only person who could ever be able to see the ones you’ve designated.

Right above his dresser, there’s a man holding a pitchfork. If he were ever to try to point it out to someone, they wouldn’t see it, but Frank does. There’s a small, possibly demonic face that is literally right above where his pillow is when he’s in bed, and when he wakes up to the sun cracking in through the window in the morning, that face sometimes scares the shit out of him.

The shape that is taunting him right now is that heart that’s a couple feet away from the demon face. He feels like it’s laughing at him. Frank refuses to look at it, instead closing his eyes and doing his best not to picture Gerard. 

Frank would very much like for the world to think his mind is perfectly clean, washed with soap daily. Usually, this is not true. Usually it’s about as far from rated G as a person could get, but right now, it’s more innocent than it’s ever likely to be again. Technically though, it is still rated Gee. The fact of the matter is that, Frank doesn’t care if he ever gets to kiss Gerard ever again, or do anything that you would be led to believe is involved in the foundation of loving someone, but that’s not even important to him. Frank doesn’t care if he never sleeps with Gerard. He just doesn’t. He would of course love to have all those things, there’s nothing about Gerard that he doesn’t want, but he doesn’t need them.

Right now, Frank’s mind is focused on all the things little kids want. He wants to go on dates to amusement parks or movies. He wants to have a Lady and the Tramp moment, buy him flowers and chocolates, kiss him before work and every night before bed. He also kind of wants Gerard to wear clothing typically associated with a princess, but that’s not really included in the innocent parts of his mind so much.

The point is, Frank could be celibate for the rest of his life and not give a damn as long as he gets to come home and watch reruns of Chopped with Gerard while they make fun of Barbara who thinks it’s a good idea to start cooking a steak three minutes before her time runs out. When he thinks about Gerard, even thinking back on Gee, he doesn’t focus on the sexy moments, he’s thinking about the ones that matter. Like when he and Gee were talking on the roof, that had seemed far more important than anything else that happened.

Beyond anything, Frank’s not sure he even really cares what Gerard looks like nearly as much as he does about the way his mind works. Frank thinks he has the most gorgeous smile in the world, but that’s nothing compared with the way he’ll be talking about one thing one minute and then somehow get himself distracted by another topic of conversation, which will turn into a completely different tangent about something stupid or unrelated to whatever he’d been talking about before. Frank thinks Gerard has eyes that could stop a train in its tracks, but he’s also got a laugh that could do the same thing, and do it faster.

Frank doesn’t know how he fell so hard so quick. He really doesn’t. None of how he feels about Gerard should be possible, or long lasting, but Frank knows more than he knows anything else that these feelings can’t ever dry up. Not really. It helps that he knows that they won’t, but even if he takes that out as a factor, completely removes his future with Gerard from his memory, it’s still so hard to picture him being with anybody else after this. He couldn’t move past Gerard if he tried for a thousand years.

And Frank hates himself more than he is capable of putting into words for being such an ass to Gerard, but he’s letting his feelings get in the way. That’s always how he ends up ruining things, when he lets himself care too much about them. It’s hard to get angry about something you don’t care a lot about. He cares a lot about Gerard, more than he’s ever cared about anyone, and that’s why he’s so angry at the guy.

He still wants him more than the world, but he wishes that Gerard could see things the way Frank does. He doesn’t want to scare Gerard away though so he’s caught in a hard situation. He’s caught up in a vicious circle where whatever he wants will contradict getting it. Whatever he does will enter him in a war with what he wants. Everything is so much harder to deal with now that it’s real, because it’s not just a fantasy anymore.

It’s forcing him to act like an adult who has to make his own decisions. Actually kissing Gerard last night has made everything so much harder, because it’s _real_ now. It’s no longer a plan he writes in his head while he’s not paying attention in math. This is something that is right in front of him that he has to deal with. It’s like in driver’s ed, when you’re taught about what to do in a situation where you’re swerving out of control. Being told what to do however many years ago and actually acting upon the instructions you were given is not as easy as you thought it would be. 

Frank is not in a classroom imagining things anymore, he’s behind the wheel, and he has to deal with everything that being with Gerard may mean. For better or for worse. He’s never understood marriage vows as well as he does right now, because this certainly feels like a situation that any normal person should run from. Frank signed away his fate a long time ago though, and now he has to deal with what that means.

But that doesn’t change the fact that he needs to fume for a little while. Being pissed at Gerard may not erase his love for him, but it certainly doesn’t mean it’s something he can get rid of just because he wants it to go away. Life is not an episode of Full House. Dealing with that fact is not nearly as hard as life has turned out to be. 

“Why are you not answering your phone?” Brendon’s voice says, replacing the music. Frank lifts his head up, seeing that Brendon is standing next to the computer, he rolls his eyes and lets his head fall back again.

“How did you get in?”

“Your mom loves me, remember?” Brendon says.

“She loves everybody,” Frank groans. “Ugh, it’s so hard to be angsty all alone in your room when your mom lets everybody who asks in the house. I can’t be a fuming teenager when I’m constantly at the risk of having to deal with people I know. What if I had been jerking off Brendon? Did you think about that?”

“Dude, I have gym with you second period,” Brendon says. 

“There’s a difference between the locker room and, ugh, you know what, jeez, fine. Let’s just be glad that we’re both fully clothed.”

“Amen,” Brendon says. “Oh and by the way, Ray is out in my car right now, because like, I figured it’d be fine if I came in without you there to ask if it was okay, but your mom doesn’t know him and he does have that scary ass face, so...”

“Dude, that’s not cool, you can’t insult his face if he’s not here, that’s just mean. Only if they’re present can you diss them, because then it’s teasing, but if it’s behind their back than you’re just a bitch.”

“You have a valid point,” Brendon says, “So are we gonna go out and, like, get break up ice cream or what?” 

“I didn’t know that was something that was happening in the first place,” Frank responds.

“Well I mean, we gotta have ice cream, I promised Ray ice cream, that was the only thing that convinced him to actually get in my car. I think he thinks I might have wanted to kidnap him, but really what would I even do with him if I’d kidnapped him? Like, I’m not really into torture or murder or anything so I’d probably just have to tie him to my shower rod and then what? What do I gain from that?”

“A sense of accomplishment?” Frank asks.

“Well yeah possibly, but let’s go stuff a shitload of ice cream into you so that you can stop sulking about the fact that you ‘broke up’ with Gerard,” Brendon says, putting air quotes around the words ‘broke up.’

“Why did you do that?”

“Well, I mean come on, you’re going to make up and then you’re going to make out and it’s gonna be gross, but that’s just the nature of things,” Brendon says.

“You don’t know that’s going to happen,” Frank says. He’s not sure how he feels about this whole situation. He’s mad at Gerard, and with himself, and with the world, but he still knows what Gee wrote in that letter. He knows that something is going to happen that Gerard doesn’t yet know about, so how can he be angry at Gerard for not thinking they’re going to get married someday when he knows for a fact that he’s wrong? 

Frank is angry and he knows he’s thinking irrationally, because he feels like he doesn’t want to date that guy at all. But then he remembers Gerard’s smile, and his laugh, and the way he bats his eyelashes like a puppy when he thinks no one is looking, and Frank gets all weak. 

It’s like the phrase ‘I can’t say no to you’ was invented solely for the way he feels about Gerard. Frank just gets so weak and feels his heart get caught in his throat whenever he so much as thinks about Gerard, and he hates how stupid he is over this guy. Frank’s always hated those cliché people who love their significant other more than words can describe, and for so long, Frank has felt like it’s fake, it’s not real. It’s a story, a fairy tale, made up to make people feel shitty about being single. But the way that Frank feels about Gerard is proof of how wrong he was when he thought that. Love may not be for everyone, but that doesn’t change that Frank wants to have Gerard in his life more than anything else. 

“Come on, Frank,” Brendon says, grabbing Frank’s wrist and trying to pull him up.

“Ugh, I don’t wanna,” Frank groans, using his weight to try to keep himself anchored where he is.

“Did I mention I’m paying?” 

Frank stops for a second, thinks, and then says, “So ice cream, huh?”

“Yeah, I knew that would get you,” Brendon says, rolling his eyes. 

“I’m always down for free things,” Frank says, “but I’m getting everything on it you know.”

Frank pulls himself up, nervous about whether or not his eyes are red and give away that he’s been crying.

“Define everything?”

“Literally everything,” Frank says, “hot fudge, Oreos, marshmallows, whatever the fuck tapioca is, and everything else that they have available to drown my sorrows. Look at it this way, I could be getting wasted instead.”

“Yeah, well the ultimatum you’ve presented yourself with is whether you care more about your liver or your teeth.”

“I just want ice cream. I’m not game for signing away my body parts to simple luxuries quite yet,” Frank says, walking out of his room, feeling somewhat more socially equipped, but still not excited to be around people. He likes free things though, what else is there to say? If it’s free, Frank’s probably willing to go out of his way for it. Frank was the kid who would dump the whole bowl of candy in his bag if someone left it outside unattended on Halloween. His reasoning for this was that it was his birthday, so he’d earned it. Besides, he used to trick or treat with Pete and they played a very childish version of poker with the candy they won anyway so it was really important that he got a good collection of candy to haggle with. 

“I know,” Brendon says, “that’s all I am to you. I’m a wallet.”

“Precisely, but at least you’ve learned your place.” 

Frank hops down the stairs, rushing past the kitchen where his mom is doing the dishes that he once again neglected to do, but this time he had a real reason, that being that he had to take Gerard to the concert last night and get him to fall in love with him, which he supposes was both a win and a loss. 

“Wait,” Frank says as Brendon closes the front door behind him, “this isn’t a trap to lure me to a place where Gerard is so that you two can sit behind a booth and watch us as you try to play out a plan where we makeup, is it?”

“I wish I’d thought have that,” Brendon says, “but nope.”

“How can I believe you?”

“Scouts honor.”

“You were never a boy scout,” Frank says.

“I guess that doesn’t really work on someone who you’ve known for a while does it?” Brendon says, frowning as he walks over to the car. When he opens it, he looks over to the passenger’s seat and asks, “Ray, were you ever a boy scout?” 

“Nope,” he replies.

“Well damn,” Brendon says, and looks back over at Frank, “Sorry, but I guess I can’t promise you that then.”

“Well, just know this, if he is there, I’m going to punch one of you in the neck, and kick the other in the nose. I’ll let you two decide who is who.”

“Not it!” Brendon shouts.

“Dude,” Ray says, rolling his eyes, “not it to which one?” 

“Oh,” Brendon frowns, “I didn’t think that far ahead.”

“You and Pete could be long lost brothers,” Ray notes.

“Nah, stupidity just runs in the tap water in this town,” Brendon says.

“Which is why I only drink bottled water,” Frank says, reluctantly pulling open the backdoor of Brendon’s car and clambering into the backseat. Frank hates backseats, partly because he’s about as short as someone who typically sits in a backseat and also partially because he has the stomach of a baby, and gets nauseas in the backseat of any type of moving vehicle. Frank seriously gets sick if he’s near the rear end of a train, he doesn’t understand his bodies gag reflex at all.

“That’s not why he drinks bottle water,” Brendon tells Ray.

“Shut up.”

“He has the immune system of a twig. He drinks bottled water because tap water gives him-”

“Don’t finish that sentence, forehead,” Frank warns.

“Yeah, actually, I agree with Frank,” Ray says.

“The whole world is against me,” Brendon frowns.

“Yeah whatever,” Frank says, “can we just go, I’m hungry and I was promised ice cream à la everything.”

“Fine,” Brendon says, and he starts the car, Frank can already feel the rumbling of it under his feet beneath him. Brendon pulls out of the driveway, off for them to meet Pete, Mikey, and because Brendon and Ray are meddlesome bastards, someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ice cream: what can't it do?


	30. Mikey and Pete Sitting in a Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey proves a point.

Frank is barely given time to look into the building before Brendon shoves him through the door, and from there, it takes Frank all of about five seconds to spot Pete.

“Oh I fucking knew it,” Frank groans, trying to turn around and get out as quickly as he possibly can. Brendon puts his arm out in front of Frank to stop him, and since Frank is very small, he just ducks underneath until Ray stops him. Basically, they just really don’t want Frank going anywhere. Frank isn’t even positive that Gerard’s here, he just knows that Pete is, and if Pete’s here, logically so is Mikey, and if Mikey is here, logically so is Gerard. Frank is going to kill so many people tonight.

“You’ve got to face him sometime, grow up,” Brendon tells Frank. 

“Why? Can’t I just pretend I never knew him?”

“Well, you’re going to have to talk about it with Mikey if that’s what you want, but Mikey is very scary. Very very terrifying, I wouldn’t mess with him if I were you.”

“I’ve known him for a lot longer than either of you,” Ray says, “if you think he’s scary now, you really haven’t seen much of anything yet.”

“He’s just one guy,” Frank says trying to get past Brendon again, who manages to grab the back of his shirt and nearly choke him on it.

“Rude,” Frank says, stopping and rubbing at his neck.

“Just go,” Brendon says. Frank groans, and turns around, but he’s met with Mikey. Frank has no idea how he was that quick but all of a sudden, Mikey is grabbing his elbow and dragging him out of the ice cream store, and Frank doesn’t want to be alone with Mikey with no witnesses. 

“Oh fuck, well if you’re going to kill me in an alleyway, can you at least send an email to my mother telling her not to look at my search history?” Frank asks.

“I’m not going to kill you. Maim you maybe,” Mikey says and Frank groans. “Oh relax.”

“So you’re going to tell me that I’m stupid I presume?” Frank asks.

“Well you are stupid. No number of times anyone says that to you will ever get it through your thick skull to enunciate just how unbelievably stupid you fucking are.”

“Thank you?” Frank asks.

“Oh my god I want to beat you senseless with a stick, but I won’t do that, alright? You’re getting off lucky.”

“Yeah, instead of being murdered with a stick you’re just going to bore me to death by talking?” Frank asks, and Mikey flicks him in the temple. “I deserved that.”

“You really did.”

“Okay, well enough of the foreplay, get to what you have to say or I’m going to run away from you.”

“Ew, don’t say foreplay to me, I’m the wrong Way,” Mikey tells him.

“Enough of the whatever then, get to your point,” Frank says.

“Well, basically, you’re an idiot.”

“You said that already I believe.”

“The point is that both you and Gerard are complete imbeciles, and I have half a mind to just let you be assholes to each other until you work things out yourself, but Gerard keeps acting like Eeyore so I have to do something so that I don’t have to hear another Adele song through my wall again.”

“He went for Adele? See I went with angry music because it drowns out the fact that I feel like someone shot me in the heart.”

“Why do you... you’re both idiots.”

“I really need to start keeping a tally of how many times you call me an idiot, because you’re going to owe me like six hundred bucks in dimes one day,” Frank says.

“You’re an idiot. You’re a buffoon. You’re a wanker. You’re an asshole. You’re an imbecile. You’re a fool. You’re a loser. You’re a piece of shit. You’re a dingbat, and you are most importantly, an enormous dick. Add that to my tab.”

“Don’t hold back,” Frank says.

Mikey makes a sound deep in his throat that Frank doesn’t want to attempt to explain, before he says, “Believe me, Frank, that was absolutely me holding back.”

“Ugh, whatever, Mikey, this doesn’t really concern you, so I don’t know why it is that you’re so angry with me about it. This is between me and Gerard.”

“Yes, I know it is, but you let me in on this whole crazy fucking thing a while ago, and now it’s too late to try telling me that I’m not a part of this, because we both know that that isn’t true,” Mikey says.

“Fine, maybe you are all caught up in this mess, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do.”

“I’m not telling you what to do, I’m telling you that whatever you do is dumb, and that you should listen to me, because I am way smarter than you,” Mikey replies.

“Oh well thanks, that’s going to really make me want to listen to you.”

“Hey, just because you don’t want to hear it, that doesn’t mean I’m not right. Everything you’ve ever done while I’ve known you has been dumb, basically you should just hand the controls of your entire life over to me so that I can steer you in the right direction.”

“Gross,” Frank says, thinking about the idea of Mikey being in charge of his every will. He doesn’t like Pete like that, so the very thought of Mikey being in charge of him makes him shudder. He makes an attempt to walk away, before Mikey grabs his elbow again and turns him around. Seriously, the guy probably weighs less than a sponge, and he has the body width of a toothpick, but he has an alarmingly large amount of hidden strength up his sleeve that Frank was unaware, and completely afraid of. Gerard’s kind of the opposite because he looks like he could probably at least punch you in the face, but Frank has never seen him open a soda bottle without hurting himself. 

“Frank, the problem with this whole argument is that you and I both know something that Gerard doesn’t know, okay?”

“I know that, but that doesn’t give him the right to be a complete ass to me with no repercussions.”

“Oh come on, Frank, you were being a complete ass to him too. It’s not a one way argument, okay? You both have warrant to be pissed, but what you don’t have any reason to be pissed about is the fact that you’re angry with him over something he simply does not know! And can’t know for the time being, because he’s weirder than I am, yes, but he wouldn’t be so quick to believe everything.”

“Mikey, I don’t care what you think or what you don’t think, I’m angry with him, and I don’t overly want to talk to him. He’s a jerk, and he’s treating our relationship like a carton of milk that you have to dump down the sink at the end of the month. That’s not fair to me!”

“It’s not fair to him that you’re treating him based on something that he doesn’t know! Frank, no matter how many times you try to avoid the truth, it doesn’t change the fact that Gerard doesn’t know what we know. You expect him to tell you that he wants to be with you forever, when you’re both only teenagers who’ve been, like, I don’t even know, not really dating, but not not-dating for less than a day. You can’t expect him to hear the wedding bells yet!”

Frank groans, “And I’ve told him this, and I’ll tell you now, I don’t expect him to be ready to read his vows right now, I just expect enough from him to know I’m not going to be left alone at the end of the year because of his stupid pride getting in the way of him admitting that he cares about me.”

“Okay, I understand why you’re angry at him, Frank, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re both stupid.”

“But of course, you’re taking his side, aren’t you?”

“I’m not taking either of your sides!” Mikey shouts, “You’re both complete dunderheads, I don’t think either of you is right. I think that you’re an idiot, and so is he.”

“Well, what about you, Mikey?” Frank asks.

“What _about_ me?”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve calling me an idiot for getting angry at Gerard over something fairly reasonable when you still haven’t made a single move to get Pete. Me and Gerard maybe at each other’s throats but we’ve made a whole hell of a lot more progress than the two of you.”

“What? That’s completely different! It’s not even similar!”

“Not even similar?” Frank asks, “Mikey, you’ve liked Pete for as long as I’ve liked Gerard, but you haven’t done a fucking thing about it!”

“Don’t even try to steer this away from you and Gerard, I know that you’re just bringing up me and Pete because you know that I’m right.”

“Fuck off, Mikey,” Frank replies, “yes, I am pissed at Gerard, and maybe you think this argument is pointless, but the fact of the matter is that I don’t think it’s pointless. What is pointless is the fact that Pete likes you, he has admitted it to my face, and you’re not very good at hiding the fact that you like him just as much, but neither of you will make a move towards the other, so you getting all angry with me about me and Gerard is plainly hypocritical of you!”

“So what are you saying?”

“Well, basically, until you grow a pair and actually get anywhere with Pete, you telling me what to do, is completely, and utterly twofaced of you.”

Mikey stands there, looking like he seriously is considering the best way to shut Frank up, and it doesn’t just involve violence, but also probably entails a chain saw and a shovel as well.

“Well fine,” Mikey says, and that’s when Mikey walks away from him. He doesn’t say anything more to Frank, but Frank, annoyed, follows him back into the store, where Mikey makes his way through the place without looking back at Frank. 

“What’d he say?” Brendon asks, returning to where he was when Frank had left, because he was obviously watching the two of them talking from the window. 

“What you’d expect,” Frank shrugs, before he’s interrupted by Mikey yelling across the room.

“Pete Wentz!” Mikey shouts before stomping over to him. Pete looks up from the booth he’s sitting in, and watches Mikey make his way over before, blinking quite violently, Frank watches Mikey grab the sides of Pete’s face and kiss him right there in the middle of the store.

“What did _you_ say to _him_?”

“I might have mentioned something about him being a hypocrite for dissing me and Gerard when he hadn’t made any progress with Pete.”

“Well that explains it,” Brendon says, before looking away because this is a family restaurant for god’s sake. He doesn’t want to see Pete being kissed by anyone, it doesn’t matter who. 

“Yeah, you sure showed him,” Ray says, rolling his eyes. 

Mikey finally pulls away revealing Pete who is grinning like a fucking maniac. Pete could have just won a multimillion dollar lottery, met Beyoncé, and been given eternal youth and he wouldn’t be beaming as widely as he is now. 

“Well at least someone can be happy,” Frank says frowning as he looks over at the person sitting next to Pete, making a disgusted face. There’s Gerard, looking gorgeous as ever, tired and frumpy, but perfect in Frank’s eyes all the same. He’s staring at Mikey and Pete with the same facial expression as Brendon.

“Ugh, get a room,” Brendon murmurs to himself when they start kissing again, and yeah, so maybe Frank is stupid, because that looks like everything that he wants from Gerard. 

But he’s got to hand it to Mikey for proving his point. That doesn’t mean he’s not angry at Gerard, but yes, Mikey has successfully gotten the point across. That doesn’t mean he likes it, but he acknowledges it nonetheless. 

Frank frowns, looking at the door where he kind of wants to leave, but then looks back at the table halfway across the room where Gerard is. Only when he looks over at the table, Gerard has finally looked up and is now looking back at him. 

“You’re going to have to talk to him eventually,” Brendon says, reading his mind.

“Yeah, I know,” Frank sighs when Gerard looks away. “But first let me stuff my face with ice cream, because the only way I’m going to get through this is if I’m on a sugar high.”

“Fair enough,” Brendon shrugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pete is a dummy and I love him.


	31. Compromise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank doesn’t have a change of heart.

“Gerard,” Frank says flatly, looking down at him as Brendon pushes him over to the booth where he’s sitting.

“So, like, we have to go... study the architecture of the outside of this restaurant,” Brendon says, grabbing Pete, who’s looking at Mikey like he’s a briefcase full of money, and dragging him away.

“See you,” Mikey says, waving at Gerard who looks incredibly pissed.

“They lured you here on the promise of ice cream too, didn’t they?” Frank asks, looking at the bowl in front of Gerard, which looks bland in comparison to Frank’s bowl of cavities.

“I figured they’d do the same to you,” Gerard groans, “but I fell for it anyway.”

“The breakup blues,” Frank sighs, sliding into the booth on the opposite side as Gerard. Gerard’s tucked away to the wall because he’s been making room for Mikey, who’s not here anymore. Frank’s sure if he were to look out the window he’d see four people staring at them and waiting for them to make out. “It demands ice cream.”

“It wasn’t really a breakup,” Gerard says, “We were never really together.”

“Then how come I feel like shit?” Frank asks, “I mean, I’ve never had a real boyfriend before, and I still apparently haven’t. I’ve never even dated anyone I liked. I’ve only ever dated girls, and I wasn’t really dating them anyway. It’s not dating if you just can’t find yourself attracted to them.”

“I don’t wanna hear about it,” Gerard tells him.

“You’re mad at me?” Frank asks, already knowing the answer.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t mean much,” Gerard replies.

“Well, I see it this way,” Frank says, “I’m asking too much out of you, and you’re asking too little. There’s not much of a compromise that isn’t going to piss one of us off and make this relationship miserable,” Frank says.

“So what are you saying then? If one of us will inevitably be drawing the short straw, than what’s the point of us making up?”

“There isn’t a point,” Frank says. “That’s what I’m saying. Whatever either of us do, it’ll piss the other off which will make us fight again, and there’s no way for this to ever work itself out, because you don’t care enough about me to ever consider a real relationship with me, and I care too much about you to settle with a relationship that’s going to end soon anyway.”

“I never said I don’t care about you.”

“You didn’t fight very hard when I asked you if you did care though,” Frank responds.

“You were putting me on the spot. You were basically asking me for a proposal, and I’m eighteen, I can’t give you that. I’ve still got most of my life ahead of me, I can’t just tell you something that may not be true.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth. I never asked you for a proposal,” Frank says.

“You asked me for an assurance that I cannot give you.”

“Well let me ask you this,” Frank says, “Do you think there’s any potential of you liking someone else more than you like me in the next year?”

“What? I... no!” Gerard says.

“So you like me more than you think you could like someone else right now. Then why is it so hard to tell me that you don’t want this to end as soon as things change a little bit,” Frank asks.

“Because I don’t know what I want,” Gerard replies.

“I _do_ know what I want,” Frank says, “I want you. I don’t know what career I want, or where I want to live, or if I want to have an electric or gas stove, but I know one thing, and that is that I want you. I don’t care about the other shit, I’m willing to compromise on just about anything if it means I’m going to be given the chance to have a shot with you.”

Gerard shakes his head, and slouches in his seat like he doesn’t know how to respond to that. He looks anywhere but at Frank. He looks at the predominately empty ice cream store around them and then at the window which makes him put on that same grossed out face he had a few minutes ago watching Mikey and Pete. Frank looks at the window to see what it is he’s looking at to see that the two of them are kissing again, and he doesn’t want to see more than that so he looks back at the table, then down at his ice cream. 

Why do Pete and Mikey get to be together and yet he and Gerard aren’t? It doesn’t seem fair, Frank’s tried a whole lot harder. He’s been miserable for a lot longer, and he has the awful terrifying fear in the bottom of his stomach that he’s going to mess up, and completely ruin his entire future. He might make one wrong move and his whole future will go down the drain just because he can’t work things out with Gerard. Mikey doesn’t seem like the kind of person who could ever doubt himself that much.

“Gerard, I don’t want to put so much pressure on you that I drive you away, but the fact of the matter is, I’m miserable right now. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future,” that’s a lie, but Frank says it anyway, “I just know that I don’t want to give up without a fight.”

“You know how long distance relationships go, Frank?” Gerard asks, “They always end badly. You never hear good things about long distance. We’re going to college next year. We’re not going to see each other. I’m going to be super busy doing all this shit, and you’re going to be just as busy, and everything will be a mess. I’m afraid that long distance will only make us angry with each other. I like you, I do, but I don’t want to risk growing to hate you because of how hard to manage everything is going to be.”

“Every relationship runs the risk of people growing to hate each other, Gerard, that’s how life works. Being that close with someone means you learn all the annoying little things about the other person and allowing them to get on your nerves, and long distance is no different. It will be hard, I know it will, but it’s not as hard as it would have been, like twenty years ago. We can talk all the time, and it can be like we’re still with each other.”

“What if we don’t have time to see each other or talk?” Gerard asks.

“We’ll make time,” Frank replies.

“That’s not how time works, Frank,” Gerard says, “I can’t just grow time on a tree to do things that aren’t immediately mandatory. I want to say that we can do it, but I don’t know if I can do it. I know that you think you can, but I don’t know if I feel the same way. It’s not about you not being able to do it, it’s about me being afraid that I can’t.”

“Are you trying to pull a ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ out of your hat?” Frank asks.

“Well, in a way, I guess, but I’m not lying when I say that I don’t know if I can do it.”

Frank sighs, angry at everything, and no one, and Gerard all at once. “Gerard, if you don’t think you can make this relationship work, than that’s all you have to say. Say it now and that’s it. I don’t have it in me to let you rot away my brain, so just tell me.”

“I want to make it work, Frank, I just don’t know if I can,” Gerard says.

“That’s not good enough, I need a yes or no. Will you try? Will you give it all that you’ve got to give that you won’t let this crumble? I think you and I could be great. You’ve liked me for a while now, and I wish I’d known sooner and made my move, because if I could’ve gotten you to fall in love with me last year than maybe it would’ve made you want to try harder, but right now, you’re looking at the fear of the unknown rather than the hunger to do your best to make this work.”

“Frank,” Gerard says, “my mind is not going to change.” Frank starts pulling himself out of the booth, barely even caring enough to grab his ice cream. Gerard clears his throat before Frank can stand up and he sighs, looking back at him, looking unimpressed with his lack of belief.

“What?” Frank snaps.

“My mind isn’t going to change right now. I don’t think I’m good enough for you to want to make things work with.”

“You don’t think you’re good enough?”

Gerard groans, looks at the ceiling, and Frank has the horrible fear in his gut that he thinks he might be making Gerard cry. He doesn’t want to do that, not right here in the middle of a restaurant where everyone can see them. Not at all, not really.

“Frank, I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a completely jealous jerk, but basically, you’re more attractive than me.”

“No I’m n-”

“Hear me out!” Gerard says, and Frank doesn’t want to argue, because Gerard looks like he’s in a lot of pain just saying these words right now. “You’re more attractive than me, and you don’t have to believe that, but I know, with every bone in my body that that’s true. I’m... well I’m kind of ugly, and I’m fat, and no one really looks twice at me.”

“You’re not ugly!” Frank says, offended that he could think that. 

“Let me talk, okay?” Gerard insists, “I know what I am, and I know you want to be nice and not agree out loud, but I think you know that I’m right. Don’t interrupt me! My point is, I believe you’re a good person. I like to think I’m really good at reading people, I’m pretty sure you’re not the kind of person who would ever be unfaithful, I believe that of you, okay? But the point is, if we’re going to college, to two different colleges, people are going to hit on _you_. They’re going to have their eyes on _you_. Everyone’s going to think _you’re_ cute. No one is going to think the same of me. I don’t think you would ever be that guy who’d cheat even in a long distance relationship. I don’t think you’re Ted Mosby, or some other bitchy sitcom character, I don’t think that’s who you are, but you will still be the guy that everyone’s going to have a crush on. I’m going to be the guy who’s dating a guy way out of his league, and I’m positive that that jealousy will destroy me.”

“Gerard-”

“I’m not done! My point is, even if you never would be the asshole who cheats, you’d still be the guy that everyone wants to date, and I’m afraid of that. I’m afraid of dating someone who’s way prettier than me, and then having to worry every waking moment that I’m not as good as someone else who he could have. You could have anyone else. There’s so many thousands of people who you could want who are not me, and I will always be the guy who you’ve settled for, and you could have so many better people who can actually be there for you and not halfway across the country. I don’t want to be the guy who you settle for when you can have someone better who can give you more.”

“Gerard,” Frank says, and when he doesn’t interrupt, Frank assumes that he’s allowed to speak finally, “I don’t think you’re any of the things you think about yourself. I think you’re pretty much the most gorgeous guy ever. I don’t need you to agree with me on that, that’s just how I feel. I know that I will never ever think of you as someone holding me back. If there were someone who was a better model of you, like a newer model of the car that I have, who could give me more and give me a bigger house, I would still take the guy who makes me feel numb when he smiles at me.”

“You say that, but-”

“My turn, Gerard,” Frank says, “I have a lot of confidence in some things. I’m, well, I’m sure of this, if you and I put a little effort into this, we will succeed. I’m sure of that. I can’t tell you how I know, or at least not yet, but I do know that you and I are... well, we’ve got a lot going for us. We’re different than all the other annoying couples in school. For one thing, we’re far more attractive, and for another, we’re more honest in our intentions.”

“Frank,” Gerard shakes his head, “I know you think that, and I want to date you, I really do, but I can’t give you what you want.”

“Maybe all I want is just to date you and see where it goes.”

Frank doesn’t know if he’s having a change of heart. He doesn’t know if he’d go that far, because he knows it’s not entirely true. He just knows that fighting with Gerard about something that will be inevitably resolved is dumb. Frank knows with some certainty that what he wants from Gerard, he will someday get. Knowing that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t want everything from Gerard right now, but he also knows that if he pushes too hard he really could push the guy away.

No, Frank hasn’t had a change of heart. He’s still angry at Gerard for not wanting the same things, and for not having enough faith in the two of them, but still, Frank knows that even if he doesn’t have the ease of mind that Gerard’s not going to dump him at the end of the school year, he’s still going to marry the guy a few years down the road anyway. Wanting commitment now isn’t going to change, but neither is the fact that Frank wants to be with Gerard in any way that he can be. He’s going to be settling a lot, yes, and Gerard’s going to have things more his way than Frank, but Frank can’t help the fact that he still really wants to be with Gerard.

Being angry with him isn’t something he can swallow and eradicate, but he can at least give himself a little faith, because he’s gotten this far. Frank’s gotten over the hardest bump which was actually getting Gerard to kiss him, so no matter how much pain it might involve, Frank is ready to take it on as long as he gets to spend as much time as possible with Gerard.

“ _Is_ that what you want though?”

“It’s not ideal,” Frank says, “but, I’m not going to have my way exactly, and I’m already asking too much of you, because I’m privileged with some knowledge you don’t have which is unfair to you. Basically, all I want is for you to give me a chance, because I know that you’re going to fall in love with me and I know I’m going to fall in love with you, so that’s all I ask.”

“That’s it?” Gerard asks, “a few hours ago you wanted guarantees and promises that I couldn’t keep.”

“I still want that, but I also understand that demanding it from you isn’t going to get me anywhere. We just started going out, I mean, fights are inevitable, I wasn’t expecting it to be so quick, but I knew it had to happen, but relationships have to include compromises, and if you’re okay with at least considering that this could be a real relationship than I’m okay with accepting that the future is a mystery and anything could happen.”

“Are you going to be happy if those are the rules?” Gerard asks.

Frank thinks about it. It’s not ideal for him to have to settle with the fact that Gerard isn’t ready to try as hard as Frank is, but he does still know things Gerard doesn’t. He knows that he’s going to end up with the guy someday, or at least, he probably is. Knowing that and holding Gerard up to that standard is unfair. 

Frank hates Mikey for being right. That kid may be a few years younger than him, but he is a hell of a lot wiser than he looks. Mikey is actually freakily smart, and he’s worried for Pete. Pete isn’t exactly an idiot, he’s a smart guy, its social conventions and reading up on things that are actually happening around him that he struggles with. He’s smart and he’s got a way with words, but he doesn’t know shit about interacting with other people. Mikey is the opposite. He’s got mind reading skills like nobody else. Mikey sure does have his hands full with him.

Frank thinks, if Mikey and Pete, as unlikely and odd a pair as they are, can make things work in the future, Frank must have it in him to do that too. He knows that he wants Gerard, and he’s got the edge in knowing that he’s going to end up getting what he wants. If that isn’t enough, than he can never work anything out with Gerard at all.

“I’ll be happy as long as I get to be your boyfriend,” Frank says.

“Yeah?” Gerard asks.

“Yeah.”

“Well then let’s give those voyeurs what they want,” Gerard says, using his head to gesture at the window, where, seriously Mikey and Pete need to get a fucking room.

Frank nods, and starts pulling out of his booth again, sliding his ice cream to the other side so that when he sits down on the Gerard’s side of the booth he doesn’t have to reach over for it. He scoots in about as far as he can go, because Gerard is at a perfect angle in the seat for him to basically spoon right in there with him. 

“You know we’re probably going to have another fight about this in less than a week or so, right?” Frank asks him, as he digs his spoon into his bowl and comes up with a huge mass of hot fudge. 

“Yeah, I figured, but let’s have this while it lasts,” Gerard says.

“Fine with me,” Frank says, because for the time being, he doesn’t want to fight. He’s exhausted, and his eyes are sore from crying earlier. He just wants to enjoy his ice cream and Gerard. 

“Your brother is gonna fuck my best friend,” Frank says, moping somewhat.

“Ugh, don’t talk about that while I’m eating,” Gerard replies, and Frank grins.

“Sorry,” Frank replies. “If it helps any, Pete probably said the same thing to Mikey. “

“Yeah, but I don’t mind that as much, more fun for me. He’s my little brother, I’m the older one, I’m supposed to threaten Pete with evisceration, but he’s so stupid and harmless, I don’t know if there’s really a need to threaten him, it’s Mikey who I’m worried about.”

“Well either way,” Frank shrugs, “I call best man at their wedding.”

“No fair,” Gerard frowns, “I’m Mikey’s brother!”

“I called it first.”

“You’re a bitch,” Gerard says, before Frank kisses the side of his mouth, and looks back to the window where those meddlesome bastards are high fiving each other. Frank will never admit that he’s glad that his friends are so nosy, but secretly, he wouldn’t have them any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean to go so long without an update, there shouldn't be a big break like that again.


	32. Not Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy to say that I can finally use this quote accurately: I wanna scream 'I love you' from the top of my lungs. But I'm afraid that someone else will hear me.

Frank would love to say that everything is absolutely grand on Monday when they’re back at school, but unfortunately he cannot. Even more unfortunate is the fact that it’s his fault. The Problem is with Frank.

Gerard is lovely, and he keeps trying to grab Frank’s hand in the hall or be low key coupley all over the school, and Frank simply isn’t having any of it. He wants to be that obnoxious couple that everyone hates because they’re jealous, but he just can’t. The problem is that Frank, other than with his close friends, is still supposed to be straight.

To his classmates, he’s still that straight guy who never dates anyone. Probably because everyone thinks he’s picky and none of the girls at their school are good enough for him, and to extent that’s not incorrect. Some of the people at this school are actually really great people, a lot of the girls are genuinely fantastic people who Frank would totally date if he wanted to, but there is a huge problem in that he doesn’t want to. Basically every single boy is an enormous asshat, but not all of them. Frank’s not in the business of kidding himself, he knows that even some of his friends are colossal twats, like Brendon, but he also doesn’t care that much. 

The only person who Frank seems to think is the best person in school is the very person who he’s been shrugging off the whole day. Frank understands that one of, if not the most colossal twat in school is himself. 

Frank doesn’t know what’s keeping him for just admitting who he is, but the same terrified feeling he had when he was trying to tell Brendon and Pete is returning now with a vengeance. It feels worse now. He doesn’t know why. 

He thinks it’s because he knows that he simply won’t be accepted by some people. There’s just too many people for all of them to be accepting, and part of him is terrified of that, even if it’s a minority, it still scares him. 

It’s a small school, and it’s a small town. It’s 2015, sure, but small town means smaller minds. There’s a bunch of gay kids in school, and some are widely known, Gerard wasn’t much of a secret apparently, but there isn’t a single gay couple. To Frank’s knowledge, there never has been. 

Another thing that terrifies him is that his private life is going to be up for grabs so quickly, and it’s not fair. He doesn’t want that to be anything but his. He doesn’t want anyone prying, he doesn’t want to be different, and he doesn’t want him and Gerard to be a spectacle. Sure he wants everyone to be jealous of the fact that they’re adorable and what not, but he doesn’t want it to be because they’re both boys. 

Possibly the worst thing is Pete and Mikey. Pete has little to no inhibitions on a good day. Mikey seems completely impervious to outside stares and opinions. This means that they are now officially the gay couple. They’re probably the first one in the entire school, or at least the first one that is actually out. But they don’t seem to care. Frank doesn’t know how they do it. They’re so blatant, no secretiveness to it. He wants to have their lack of embarrassment and shame, because Gerard is too good for Frank to be hiding about it. Gerard doesn’t deserve to have a coward of a boyfriend. 

Frank is pretty sure that Gerard has noticed. By third period he’s stopped attempting to even find Frank in the hall. Frank doesn’t know what to do or what to say, but he knows that if he were Gerard, he’d be pretty pissed off too. 

Frank is somewhat dreading lunch, because he knows that he’s going to fight off something or other, either himself, Gerard, or a very angry Mikey. Frank is honestly startled by those two, they seem to both be the older brother in various situations, except Frank is sure that he knows which Way he would less like to piss off. Being on Gerard’s bad side isn’t ideal, especially considering that he’s hopelessly in love with the guy, but Mikey is the kind of dude who could make you disappear. They’re very tightknit as far as brothers go, and both of them make no secret of the fact that they are willing to murder for the other.

By the time that Frank eventually makes his way to the cafeteria, he’s almost petrified. He’s anticipating a lot of crap, and he’s anticipating it coming from more than one person. 

Frank isn’t the first to sit at their table, Ray and Brendon are both already there staring blankly at each other. They look very annoyed with each other.

“Contain yourselves boys,” Frank says.

“He promised me he’d buy me ice cream,” Ray says. “Guess who’s a liar.”

“I only had enough for him,” Brendon says, “I didn’t think Frank would be so expensive but he put everything on his ice cream! I thought I’d have enough left over. I’m not the one with the job.”

“Are you trying to tell me that minimum wage is enough to buy ice cream? What year do you think it is? I can barely afford socks,” Ray says.

“Ah see, and thus are the luxuries of a rich aunt,” Frank says. 

“Go fuck yourself,” Brendon scowls, as his car is secondhand along with most of his things. But that’s the curse of having siblings, Frank supposes. 

“Oh no,” Frank says seeing Pete and Mikey walking over, practically glued at the hip. Frank doesn’t think it’s fair that he and Gerard got together first and yet Mikey and Pete are practically exchanging wedding vows already. He knows that he and Gerard will still end up together in the end, and that Pete and Mikey will too, but he realized recently that he doesn’t know whose wedding is coming first. In the pictures Gerard gave him, there’s no clear shot on either of the hands, so Frank can’t tell if they’ve got wedding rings yet. He simply doesn’t know who is going to be tying the knot first and it infuriates him. He direly hopes it’s him and Gerard. He has a feeling Gerard would get a complex if his younger brother got married before him. 

But Frank is thinking way too far in the future, as here comes Gerard looking pissed as all hell. He beats Pete and Mikey to the table, as his walk is fast and determined and his face looks like he’s about to yell at the first person who talks to him. 

As soon as Gerard sits down, Ray and Brendon both get this look and turn in the opposite direction, like they’re extremely fascinated by the window. Frank also happens to become all of a sudden interested in the window, watching the grey sky taunting rain over them.

“So my mom bought a new kind of cleaner this weekend,” Brendon says.

“Oh, tell me more!” Ray says, and Frank rolls his eyes at the two because of their very lacking performance. He understands that they’re trying to give him and Gerard privacy but he’d rather they just didn’t talk at all. 

Mikey and Pete finally sit down and Brendon very conspicuously gestures towards him and Gerard as if to say that shit is going down.

“So do you mind explaining why you’re ashamed of me?” Gerard says finally, with a stern jaw and focused eyes.

“That is not at all true,” Frank says.

“So why are you all of a sudden pretending you don’t know me?” 

“Okay, so I see why you might get that idea, but it’s not true. I’m not ashamed of you, I’m... like I’m more ashamed of myself.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Gerard asks.

“Like, I’ve never been the gay kid before,” Frank whispers, glancing around to make sure no one can hear him. This isn’t the right thing to do as Gerard looks even angrier now. Frank just can’t do anything right.

“And that relates to me how?” Gerard asks. “I’ve been the gay kid for about four years, Frank.”

“I know, I understand that and you’re a way better person than I am too.”

“Well you’re not going to see me arguing with you about that,” Gerard responds.

“So, okay, Gerard, like you know I like you. That’s not something I want to be a secret, or at least, I don’t want it to be a secret with people I care a lot about, but I don’t care about anyone at this school besides the people who already know I like you.”

“So that means I don’t have the right to fucking have a boyfriend outside of the minds of four people?” 

“Oh that makes it sound bad.”

“Well that’s because it _is_ bad, Frank,” Gerard says.

“Okay, but Gerard, I’m not used to being the gay guy!” Frank says quietly.

“I understand that much but it doesn’t change that it’s not fair to me that I don’t get to even be your boyfriend during most of the day.”

“Okay, but you still are!” Frank insists.

“If I’m a secret eight hours of the day than I might as well not exist at all.”

“That’s not true!”

“It might as well be.”

“Okay, but it’s not fair that you expect me to want to tell everyone! I have a right to some privacy,” Frank says.

“And I have the right to hold my boyfriend’s hand in the fucking hallway.” 

“Well, yeah, sure maybe, but that doesn’t mean that I have to put my entire life on a pedestal for the consumption of people who don’t give a shit about me.”

“Frank, I just want to be able to tell people I have a boyfriend and know that he wouldn’t deny that to everyone who I would tell.”

“I wouldn’t deny it!” Frank says.

“But you won’t readily admit to it,” Gerard responds.

“Gerard, I like you, why isn’t that enough?”

“Because it’s not a real relationship if it has to be kept a secret to everyone who matters. Have you even told your mother?”

“That’s not important.”

“Which means that you haven’t.”

“I will,” Frank says.

“Frank, I can maybe understand why you don’t want the school to know, and while I don’t like it, I understand it, but your fucking mother? From what I hear, she is a fucking saint. Why am I so embarrassing to you that you can’t even tell her?” 

“Yeah, I get it, I’m a piece of shit, but this is all really new to me. I haven’t even told her I’m gay, Gerard, it’s not something that is easy to bring up.”

“Well, if she won’t understand, or if you’re putting yourself in danger by telling her than I completely get it, okay? I don’t want you to tell her if it could end badly, but if it won’t, than you not telling her can only make me think one thing and that’s that you don’t care enough about me to acknowledge that you’re dating me.”

“That’s not fair to me Gerard. Okay, yes, my mom won’t get mad, and I know that, but that doesn’t mean I’m obligated to tell her.”

“But if you don’t than what does that make me?”

“It makes you the guy that I like a lot.”

Gerard rolls his eyes, “The guy who is only your boyfriend in the company of about six people.”

“Gerard, how can you be putting pressure on me to come out when you still refuse to think that we’ll be together after graduation?”

“Oh my god, this again?” 

“Yes, this again!” Frank says angrily. 

“How is this related?”

“Well because you’re angry at me because I apparently don’t care enough about you to tell the world, but me being angry at you for refusing to consider that this relationship has any enduring capability is apparently too much for you to handle.”

“I thought we got over this?”

“We didn’t get over this, we just put it on the back burner for a few days.”

“So if I’m angry with you about something that is presently apparent, that gives you the right to bring this shit up? It’s not even relevant to bring up and you think it compares to the fact that you won’t admit to being my boyfriend? How the fuck is you being ashamed of me supposed to feel?”

“How do you think the fact that you don’t like me enough to give me any faith feels?”

“You’re taking that out of context,” Gerard snaps.

“You’re being a bitch.”

“Wow,” Gerard says, looking so far beyond angry with Frank that he’s almost calm. Frank looks back at him, scared of what he’s going to say next, because Frank won’t deny that they’re both being quite bitchy. 

Instead of saying anything though, Gerard just stands up and starts making his way out of the cafeteria. Frank just sits there aghast, watching him walk away.

Someone hits Frank in the back of the head and that’s the only thing that gets him to turn around and stop watching Gerard leave.

“What was that for?” Frank asks, because Pete is apparently the one who hit him.

“Mikey told me to,” Pete shrugs. 

“That’s my brother you just called a bitch, Frank.”

“Yeah, but he kind of deserved it,” Frank says.

“Pete,” Mikey says, and Pete, on cue, hits Frank in the arm. 

“Alright that one was maybe earned,” Frank nods.

“You do realize that you have to fix this before tomorrow right?” Mikey asks him.

“Fuck,” Frank says, when he searches his brain for a moment. Yeah, so tomorrow is Gerard’s birthday. He can’t exactly allow them to be fighting on Gerard’s actual birthday. That would make him the ultimate dick. There would be literally no way to come back from that.

“You two must have set a record,” Ray says, “No other couple has ever had two fights in their first three days. You guys have been fighting for 2/3 of your relationship.”

“Don’t remind me,” Frank groans. How on earth this relationship is going to make it beyond a week is a mystery to Frank, let alone eight years. He’s got his work cut out for him, that much is for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I regret to say that this fic will be coming to a close soon, as the story is almost at an end, but there's still a few more chapters to go. I love you all for reading, thanks for sticking with this for so long, hopefully it will all be worth it!


	33. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon Ramsay this shit.

Frank gets cornered into his locker near the end of the day by Mikey, which he has honestly been expecting since the blow out at lunch. Frank just grabs his backpack from his locker, takes a deep breath and tries not to burst into tears.

“Real talk, Frank,” Mikey says. “I have to actually say some shit to you, and it might sound mean, it might hurt your feelings, and that doesn’t matter, because you need to open your ears and hear me for real.”

“Okay,” Frank nods. “I’m ready. Lay it on me.”

“You don’t sound like you’re ready.”

“I’m not,” Frank replies, “but it’s now or never, just tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Mostly, you’re an idiot. That’s the first through twentieth thing on my mind. On a check list, my life consists of telling you you’re an idiot for three solid years in a row.”

“Okay, fair enough.”

“Second or well, twenty first after all those proclamations of idiocy, you and Gerard are written down in history already, and yet you still fuck it up. It’s like it’s a game to you. It’s a game to see how far you can stray from your destiny, and that game is one you’re intentionally trying to lose. Why are you doing that? You know how things should end, but you’re jumping over obstacles to run away from that. I don’t get it. I thought you _wanted_ Gerard.”

“I did! I _do_ , I mean, I want him, of course I do. I’m crazy about him. Hell, I love the son of a bitch.”

“Damn right you do, because Gerard is fantastic, and he’s too good for you, but I’m choosing to look past that for now because I think, or well I was under the impression until the last few days that you would make him happy. I thought being with you would be good for the both of you, but especially him, because dude, you’re not bad, and I don’t dislike you or anything, I’d consider you a friend, but he’s my brother. He’s my brother, and he’s more important to me than anyone, and I will seriously fuck you up if you hurt him, but I can’t do that now because I feel like we’ll lose the plot even more and no one needs that, least of all Gerard. What I need is for you to pick yourself up by whatever you need to, and you need to accept that this is real life. You cannot hit redo, or do things over if you mess this all up, you have this one chance, and if you keep pissing all over that chance, you don’t just get another one willy nilly. There’s no cheat code, or reset button, there’s no second try; there is fact, and that’s it. If you fuck things up like this and refuse to even do anything to go about fixing it then you have not just lost the game, but you have literally lost your whole future.”

“I know that,” Frank says, shaking his head.

“Really? Because it doesn’t seem like you do. You keep pushing him away with every little thing. I don’t know what you’re doing, this is supposed to be a big amazing love story that’s so important to the universe that the laws of time bend to make it happen. This is so emotional and important a thing and you’re disrespecting how hard laws and possibilities are trying to get you and Gerard to work. I can’t intervene as much as I want to, because honestly, I’m afraid you’re going to drag me down with you and I really like that asshat friend of yours. You are toxic to yourself, I don’t even want to begin thinking about what else you might destroy, and besides, it’s not my job to make sure you don’t fuck things up. Because, and I mean this in the nicest possible way I can, if you need to fall into nothingness because you can’t make things work, I’m not going to kill myself trying to pull you back up. That’s not my duty. That’s your problem. Believe me, I don’t want to see you fail, but I’m not going to take it upon myself to fix you if you do something wrong. At the end of the day, Frank, Gerard can still find someone. He isn’t torn apart on the inside knowing what his future is supposed to look like, so he doesn’t have that tie to you that you have to him. If you can’t make it work, then this will all just be a blip in his life. A weird story he tells to his future husband who isn’t you. But you, you don’t have that luxury. He’s always going to be the ‘what if’ for you, and the one who got away. So either you woman up and start taking your life seriously, or you let Gerard go now so that you can meet your ultimate destination of eternal solitude.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been insulted so poetically,” Frank frowns, “and yet I kind of want to punch you in the face? But, like, I know you’re right? You make a good point, and I wouldn’t expect you to be on my side in this all when Gerard is your brother, but damn, still wanna hit you.”

“Well, I’m not neutral in this, Frank, and don’t think for one second that I’m not on Gerard’s side. If this were a real war, I do hope you realize I would be on his team and I would shoot you in the face without a second thought, but seeing as this is not a war and it’s mostly just a quest to see if you’re capable of not being a little shit, then I will provide advice, but I’m still not on your side, and you really have no merit to punch me. In fact, I think the punching permission lies in my favor.”

“I really hate you Way’s,” Frank shakes his head, “you’re so smart but you’re mean about it?”

“It’s a genetic thing.” 

“So is fibromyalgia,” Frank says, trying to highlight how pointless that statement was by inadvertently making himself sound stupider. 

“Right,” Mikey says, “so I’m just going to walk away from you and you had better have a fucking plan by tomorrow. Gordon Ramsay this shit, okay, take it from zero to a hundred overnight.”

“Did you just say without irony ‘Gordon Ramsay this shit’?” Frank asks. 

“Don’t question my methods,” Mikey says, “you absolute fucking walnut.”

Frank nods, “I’m going to go cry in my car and listen to breakup albums now.” Somehow that sounds less embarrassing than his other alternative which was to just cry in the hallway. 

“Just know that if you ruin Gerard’s birthday I will hunt you down and make your life hell for every waking moment that you continue to exist.”

“Noted,” Frank says, turning around and walking away as quickly as he can in a way that doesn’t make it look like he’s trying to run away from Mikey, but it’s still pretty obvious that he’s running away from Mikey. Who wouldn’t?

When Frank gets out of the building, the front steps are flooded with students all talking about this or that, with the air drizzling so sparsely around them that it might just be wayward spit from people talking too emphatically. 

When Frank does make it to his car, and out of the parking lot, which feels blissful to him, all he does is get far enough away from the school so that no one is going to see his pitiful crying in the front seat of his car. First of course he stops at a convenience store for a massive bag of Kit Kat’s because that’s what a breakup, or whatever this is, demands. It’s like meeting a Dementor, as soon as you experience that, you have to binge on chocolate, it’s just a fact of nature.

Frank pulls out a Taylor Swift CD from his glove compartment, which he will tell anyone who asks that he received as a birthday present from his aunt the cat lady from Hell, Michigan, literally, and which has never in it’s entire life been inside a CD player, nor has it even seen the light of day. What actually happened was that he got it as a joke and then realized it was good after it was too late, and he can’t turn back. He can’t turn back now, it’s far too late. Too late. It’s just too late.

Also it’s really good to soothe a good heartbreak. Not that Frank’s ever had his heart broken, because he’s never really dated anyone. But he watches a lot of teen shows that he also would deny ever having seen. But goddammit, Clare and Eli were meant for each other. 

Even more so however, he and Gerard were meant for each other. Not only meant for each other, they _bend time and space_ for each other. That’s how meant for each other they are. Fuck off Marshall and Lily, Gerard is way fucking cuter and has less obnoxious siblings. Frank is aware that that analogy entails that he is Lily, and he is very much okay with that. 

When Frank grabs the CD case, he huffs as he opens it and that’s when a folded piece of paper flutters out and onto his lap. 

Frank, curious, picks it up, throwing the case in the passenger’s seat. 

He recognizes Gerard’s handwriting immediately. 

He’s read over that note at least a thirty dozen times, he would recognize a comma in Gerard’s handwriting at this point. The words and letters are etched into his brain like a chisel in rock.

The letter looks to be a continuation of the previous letter Gerard wrote him, and Frank, hungry for more information, reads through it so fast he barely takes a word in. 

**Part II**

So, not to ring my own bell or anything, but guess who is probably half psychic? I’m actually descended from Raven Baxter. Because seriously, not only did I know when you would open this CD, I also knew what happened to make you open this CD. I’m on fire, I’m awesome. 

I’m going to start this off with the fact that you are a lying little shit. I know you claim your aunt gave you this CD, and it’s not a bad back story, it really isn’t, because aunt’s don’t know how to use computers, therefor are incapable of sending you iTunes gift cards for you to figure out yourself what you want for your birthday, but the real kicker is that you left the price sticker on it. I mean, no person in their right mind leaves the price sticker on an album that they’re gifting to someone else. When you gift it, you don’t want the recipient to know how much you spent, and that means that the fact that you kept the sticker on it is because you bought it. Maybe I’m actually Sherlock Holmes, or, it’s entirely possible that you left the receipt in the case and I worked it out from the name on the receipt but the specifics are not important.

The fact of the matter is that you bought a Taylor Swift album and you didn’t want anyone to know about it. Personally, I wouldn’t have gone for Red, but that’s just me, I mean I liked her eighth album, but that hasn’t come out yet for you, but just you wait until you find out what happened with- I’m getting ahead of myself, I promised not to give you any spoilers. You haven’t earned the juicy details of Taylor Swift’s love life. But as a completely unrelated advance, make sure you watch the series finale of Iron Chef, that shit was _fucked_.

First, a word on why all of this is necessary. What I’m about to tell you, I’ll admit, is not fact. I don’t have a sheet of paper to give you stating for certain that this is true, but I’m pretty sure it is. 

Basically, if it weren’t for the whole time travel thing, we never would’ve happened. I don’t know how clear on that you are, but that’s something I’m pretty sure of. I think, if you put the pieces together, a long time ago on a plane separate from either of our realities, we didn’t end up together. That’s my theory at least, and that theory then goes to follow that with every time this timeline repeats, it becomes more and more dire that these events fall into place accordingly, because otherwise shit will happen. Paradox type shit, mind you, so we’re talking serious shit.

I’ve seen too many movies about time travel, I know that, so I’m seriously grasping at straws, but I’m most definitely sure that if we don’t end up together, one or both of us will die before we ultimately were destined to, as a way to cut any loose ends in this timeline. Am I sure of this, on one hand, no, but on the other, yes, I am. Time is a tricky thing, it’s flexible to some extent and not to some others, and I really wish there was a guidebook that explained all this shit, but there isn’t. Time Travel for Dummies, find it in a store near you. Sadly not.

To make things more clear, my belief is that in the first timeline of existence that contained you and I, we didn’t end up together. In that timeline myself, or a version of myself decided that not being together wasn’t good enough and time bent itself to aid me, which is why I ended up going back in time to get myself and you together. The science aspect I’m iffy on, but the reasoning behind it I am not. That long off Gerard would have died alone in his universe sadly, but he would have put the next timeline of you and me together, with an inflexible demand for it to happen again for the next timeline. 

In a sense, this theory works as a metaphor for one life being the end of a book. Once you turn the final page, the book begins again, the same, but slightly different. If you were to tear out a page, or if you and I were not to make it work in one timeline, this timeline to be specific, then the gravity of that rip would cost us our lives and the story. My timeline has already been formed, it cannot change, and I still believe that yours is indeed fixed, but without knowing for certain, it’s safe to assume that if you really did mess everything up, you would be messing up more than just your love life, you would be messing up both of our lifespans, and possibly more than that. By more than that, I mean black hole shit. That actually isn’t a metaphor, I mean an actual black hole.

This is some freaky shit we got ourselves into, and yes, if you keep things calm, it shouldn’t affect either of us in anyway, but if something goes amiss, we will have a debt to pay. Don’t force us to find out just how high that debt really is.

I’m getting off point, so instead of scaring the shit out of you, I’m going to talk about your present. In summary: You’re a little bitch who keeps getting angry with me because I have ‘commitment issues,’ and I’m being an asshole to you about you not being willing to expose your entire life to the public eye. I’m not going to tell you how we settled that argument, but I’m just going to tell you that it’s okay, that was supposed to happen. This is how things are meant to go. Probably. I mean I can’t show you an entire list of what happens and what doesn’t because then there’s no fun in it. You would have little triumph, because then you wouldn’t have had to fight for anything. I’d damn well better be worth fighting for.

What I will tell you is to seriously stay the hell away from Pete until after my birthday because he will feed you some majorly dumb ideas, and I don’t care what year you’re from, there is nothing romantic about jumping up on a lunch table and singing All Of Me to a crowded cafeteria. It just doesn’t work, I mean maybe in a movie, but even in a movie the amount of secondhand embarrassment can be cut with a knife, and really, I don’t need that hanging over my head for my entire life. Basically, just don’t sing any love ballads to anyone in a room full of high schoolers and all will be grand. 

Also, Mikey is a prophet of some sort, I mean not actually, but that dude could seriously rake in the cash if he were to set up a psychic detective agency with his, let’s be honest, far more attractive best friend and I’m losing my point again, but what I need you to do is listen to Mikey like he has the key to life sewn into his words. I mean that. I need you to take every word out of his mouth as gospel. If Mikey says jump, you ask how high. Got that? If Mikey says to buy yourself a pair of crocs than you had damn well better buy a pair of crocs, just never wear them okay, because I can’t date a guy in crocs.

So anyway, some updates, no, you absolutely cannot name our future child Boba Fett, and while we’re at it, yes, Galadriel is also out of the question. I can be talked into Leia or maybe even Samwise, it depends on what kind of day I’m having, but that’s the most I’m going to budge on the subject. 

In conclusion, please, do not burst into song ever inside a cafeteria, absolutely do not buy an Apple Pencil, and for god’s sake listen to Mikey! I can’t stress that enough, you need to hear that boy and learn from him, because I know he’s younger than you but he is about sixteen times smarter than all other humans ever.

Love,

Gerard (not your Gerard, the other Gerard, the one with the cuter butt)

P.S. Mikey’s not joking when he says he’ll fuck you up if you ruin my birthday, he had a whole plan drawn out and it involved jalapeños and an enormous misuse of pipe cleaners so you seriously need to get on that. 

Frank thinks that this letter has got to be longer than the last. There’s less information crammed into his for some reason however. He doesn’t know what the hell is going on with his life, or with the universe, or why Gerard and he are so important, or anything at all really. 

All that Frank has taken from this letter actually is that his life is about a thousand times harder than he had originally thought. And also, Mikey is terrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously though, never buy crocs.


	34. I'd Catch A Grenade For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank is a mess of internal struggles.

The moment that Frank gets home the only thing he can think about is Gerard, which is not unusual. The only he thing thinks about anymore is Gerard, but this time it’s painful and stinging. He thinks about what Gerard’s probably thinking of him right now. 

Gerard’s mad at him, and he’s right to be. Frank isn’t the guy that Gerard deserves. Gerard is too good for him. He’s so willing to have everyone know that he’s gay, and then here’s Frank. Frank’s just this stupid, hopelessly in love guy who knows how his future with Gerard pans out and is still so afraid of it. He’s afraid of not having it, and frank’s also starting to realize that he’s afraid of having it too.

What if in the future, he can’t be as good to Gerard as he wants to be? What if he ends up hurting Gerard more than he does make him happy? What if Frank and Gerard are so hopelessly under the illusion of love that they never managed to actually find love? What if Gerard ends up deciding he doesn’t actually want to be with Frank?

Frank’s mind is flooded by too many what if’s and he doesn’t know what to do with them all. He doesn’t know, and he hates it. Frank hates not knowing. He wants to know the end of this story, and the middle and every other part, but he doesn’t. He knows only the important parts and doesn’t know how to make those important parts truths.

But he also knows that if he and Gerard don’t end up together, he could die, or he could kill Gerard. He wishes that he understood why they were so important compared to every other couple in the world. Why is it that Frank and Gerard’s lives hang in the balance when no one else’s do? Mikey and Pete don’t have this dark cloud over their heads, why are Gerard and Frank the ones whose lives depend on each other?

Frank gets that it’s not their relationship that is the cause of why they would die, it’s the fact that going into the past is such a huge paradox for the universe to handle and if the goal that necessitated that time jump can’t be reached than the universe has to compensate for it. He understands that, kind of, but what he doesn’t understand is why he and Gerard wouldn’t have ever met without him having met Gee. 

Why is it that Frank would never have noticed Gerard if it hadn’t been for that fling with the older version of him? Why was the Frank of two months ago so unbelievably stupid that he never looked twice at Gerard? Frank can feel his entire body screaming out for Gerard, but why is it that he needed a shove to get him to realize that? 

Frank falls onto his bed, broken inside and feeling like he’s been fighting in a war for several years. He never knew that loving someone would be so hard. He never knew that he himself would be the barrier standing between what he wants. 

Because Frank does love Gerard. He loves him so much that he could never put it into words just how much he actually loves the man. Frank would step in front of a gun for Gerard. He would do anything if it meant keeping Gerard safe. He doesn’t even care that he would end up getting hurt, he just cares too much. He cares so much for Gerard than he can’t even handle it. 

But Frank is still afraid of people knowing. He loves Gerard, he does so much, he loves Gerard so much that he doesn’t have words for it. And he’s still so afraid of people’s opinions. He wants to believe that he loves Gerard so much that he’s able to overcome anything, fear, doubt, the opinions of others, and he does so wish that that were true, but he knows it isn’t. 

Frank loves Gerard, but he doesn’t know if he loves Gerard more than he’s afraid of people judging him.

Frank could barely tell his two best friends in the world that he was gay. He could barely say it to the two people who he would honestly trust with his life. It took him a year to muster up the energy to say it to them. How can he be expected to tell the entire school? That’s hundreds of kids, most of whom he doesn’t know, but all of whom know of him. He’ll be the gossip for the rest of the school year. He and Gerard will be the only thing anyone ever whisper in the halls about. He’ll be the gay kid.

Frank’s okay with being the gay kid in his own mind but he doesn’t know that he’s strong enough to be the gay kid in everyone else’s mind too. 

Frank just wishes that Gerard could understand this crippling fear. He wishes that Gerard knew that it wasn’t about him, it was about Frank being a coward. That’s what he is, Frank knows it. He’s a coward. 

He pretends he’s too good to care about other people’s opinions and he pretends he’s not this little boy who falls victim to what other people have to say about him, but it’s not true. He loves Gerard, he really truly does, but he’s afraid of what people will have to say about that.

If Frank had one wish it would be that he could make his fear go away. He wants to be free of self-doubt and be free of the judgmental gaze of others. He wants to be as brave as Gerard. Gerard probably wouldn’t even call it bravery; he would just call it the way it is. Inevitable. It is inevitable, because Frank will have to come out eventually. He doesn’t think that he should have to, because he doesn’t think that his sexuality is really anyone else’s business but his own, but he’s going to have to do it eventually. He would prefer if it didn’t have to be in high school, when everyone’s goal is to be cool and survive in one piece. He wishes it could be after he’s made enough of a life for himself that no one around him would be bothered by it.

Frank sighs, stops himself from crying, and decides that today, there is at least one step he can take to appease what Gerard thinks of him. 

Frank takes a deep breath, and exits his room. He walks down the hallway to find his mother busying herself in the laundry nook, folding her clothes, blissfully clueless to the fact that Frank is imploding on the inside behind her. 

“Ma,” Frank says, to get her attention. 

“Hi Frank,” she says, “Come to help with the laundry?” She laughs because even Frank knows she can’t be serious. Frank has tried to help before but Frank is incapable of learning the art of folding. He could never work in retail. Frank can’t even do origami. 

“There’s something I have to tell you,” Frank says, and the tone of his voice prompts her to stop what she’s doing and turn to look at him. 

“Something wrong, Frank?” she asks, and Frank shakes his head. He’s feeling the same chalk-like sensation throughout his whole body that he’d had when he’d told Pete and Brendon. He’d done that and survived though, so Frank knows that he can bring himself to tell his mother too. Maybe. He hopes.

“No,” Frank says, “it’s just. God, I don’t know how to say this.”

“You can tell me whatever it is, Frank,” she says, and that doesn’t help. He still is afraid of people knowing. This is his own mother for god’s sake, if there’s anyone he should be able to tell, it’s her. He knows she’ll understand and he knows she’ll be a saint about it, and still he’s this stupid coward who can’t bring himself to say it.

“Okay,” Frank says, and he decides that his only option is to just rip the band aid off and say it. She keeps looking at him intently, with worry in her eyes that Frank supposes that he understands. The tone in his voice is one that any mother would worry over. 

Frank takes a deep breath, and doesn’t let it out, instead he just says, all in one breath, “Ma, I’m gay.”

“What?” she asks, and Frank knows he probably was incoherent. It’s easier this time to say it though, because he’s said it once before so he knows that he can get it out again.

“Mom,” Frank says, heart racing faster than he can bear it, “I’m gay.”

“Oh,” she says, looking almost relieved. “Alright then.” 

Frank is dumbfounded, because there it is. He’s said it. It’s taken him so long to find the courage, and he’s finally gotten the words out. And his mom doesn’t look angry, or disappointed, or any emotion other than concerned for her son. 

But telling the whole school won’t be this easy. Frank doesn’t even think saying that this was easy is accurate, because he was fucking terrified. But this is his mom, of course it’s still easier to tell her this, because he trusts her more than anyone else in the world. 

Nevertheless, he needs his mom to tell him what to do because as it is, Frank doesn’t know what he’s doing. “And there’s this guy.” 

“Oh,” she says, looking excited this time, “what’s his name?” Frank’s still completely petrified of everything going on in his life, but now he has one less thing to worry about. And maybe Gerard will be able to understand how hard it was for Frank to tell his mom, and it will dawn on him that Frank really does care about him, loves him even. 

“Gerard,” Frank says, “but I think I ruined it.”

“No, now I know that’s not possible,” she says, and even though he’s scared about everything, Frank feels his heart start to slow down. This is his mom. This is his mom, who knows now, and she’s as kind about it as Frank always knew she would be. This is just a regular conversation with his mom about a person that he likes, and his mom’s advice is going to be the most useful assortment of words that he’ll ever hear until the next time she opens her mouth. Because this is his mom, and she cares about him no matter what, and she knows that Frank is still her son no matter what. To Frank, his mom is all knowing, and wise beyond words. 

“I’m afraid that I pushed him away,” Frank confesses.

“Then you’ve got to pull him back in,” she says simply, and Frank knows she’s right. That’s what he needs to do but he can’t find it in himself to do it. 

“It’s just-” Frank starts, “I am afraid that he and I both know that I’m not good enough for him. And I’m afraid that he’s going to realize that he doesn’t need to be hindered by me.”

“You’re not a hindrance, Frank,” she says, “do you know if he likes you back?”

“Well he did,” Frank says, “but I probably went and messed that up, because I’m such a coward.”

She shakes her head and asks, “why do you think you’re a coward.”

“I’m afraid of being the… the gay kid. Gerard, he’s been out for years, and I don’t know that I’m strong enough to endure everyone knowing. I don’t want to be a subject of gossip, I just want to be with him, and not have anyone judge me for it. But he thinks that I don’t like him enough and that’s why I don’t want anyone to know, but that’s not it. I’m just so afraid.” 

“Your fears are not invalid, Frank. Kids are cruel.”

“But what if my fear keeps us apart?”

“If he can’t see that you’re an amazing person, Frank, then maybe he isn’t worth it,” she says, and Frank shakes his head. He can’t tell her what he knows, he can’t tell her about the letters, or about Gee, he knows he can’t, but she needs to understand.

“I’m in love with him, mom,” he says, “and it’s stupid because I’m in high school, and I’m going to college next year and we’re not going to have any time to talk, and it’s going to be hard, and I’m stupid because I’m only eighteen, but I am _in love_ with him. I am so desperately in love with him that I can’t blink without seeing his face, and I can’t see his face without falling apart and I can’t sleep because I love him so much, and I’ve gone and fucked it up and I’m so scared that I don’t know what to do. I’m just falling apart.”

“Aw, Frankie,” She says, grabbing him and pulling him into a hug. Frank’s so short that he is still and probably will always be, shorter than his mother. 

“If you love him, and if you think that you can make things work, then the odds can be damned. If Gerard loves you back, and I know he must, because you are such a good kid, then he will realize that it doesn’t matter who knows as long as you are together.”

“You don’t think I have to tell everybody?” Frank asks.

“I think you should do whatever you feel is right. There are always going to be obstacles in your way,” she says, pulling away to look at him, “there’s going to be a thousand different obstacles, and when you get past one, there’s always going to be another. But if you and Gerard love each other, then a thousand obstacles and more is what you’re going to face. He’ll see that eventually.”

“But do you think he’s right? That I should tell everyone?”

“I think both of your arguments have merit. It’s hard to keep a relationship a secret when you love someone enough to shout it to the world, but it’s also hard to overcome a fear just because it’s asked of you. Whatever you think you are capable of doing, that’s what you should do.”

“How can I tell everyone at school when I’ve been afraid to tell you though?” Frank asks.

“Just remember that it’s not a monster you’re fighting, it’s just a couple of opinions which will fade away in a few years anyway. None of the people at your school will remember you’re this or that in five years. Those who don’t accept you aren’t worth your time. As long as you know that those who you care about still stand beside you, then no one else matters. It’s easier said than done, I understand, but that doesn’t change that you are good enough not to need anyone’s approval but your own.”

Frank knows that she’s right, because not a day has ever come and passed where his mom hasn’t been right, but it’s still a huge mountain he’s facing that he doesn’t know if he’s capable of climbing or not. 

Frank just has to think of that letter. He knows that he’s going to have to end up with Gerard one way or another, or he could die. But he’s still afraid of it. He’s afraid of both futures that now stand before him. He’s afraid that he’s going to miss out on Gerard, and he’s afraid that he’s going to get him. 

But Frank still loves Gerard. That’s something inside of him that he cannot nor will he ever be able to change. He still loves Gerard and always will.

He knows it won’t be easy, but Frank is going to do whatever he needs to do to make sure that he and Gerard have the future together that he knows they’re made for. He’s gonna Gordan fucking Ramsay this shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It breaks my heart that I haven’t updated this in so long that I’ve probably lost half of my readers. I truthfully am so sorry. Please comment if you're still there, it really does mean the world to me.


	35. For Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank would make a shitty secret agent, but a really good boyfriend.

Frank feels like Kim Possible. He feels like James Bond. He feels like Austin Powers, Ethan Hunt, Maxwell Smart, and he feels like a really anal wedding planner. Basically, he just feels like one elusive, strategic, suave as fuck dude who’s probably amazing in bed.

His plan is simple, and convoluted, and idiotic at best, but he thinks it’ll work. After all, he’s now alone on this. Not today, at least. Tomorrow he’ll be a small child in the middle of a shopping mall on Black Friday, but he’s got his bearings right now and that’s all that matters.

The first step is what he needs Ray for. Ray is the only person with the combination to Gerard’s locker, because he doesn’t trust Mikey with that information, and that is probably a smart idea on Gerard’s part. Ray also lives a block from Gerard which means that he is basically Frank’s delivery boy. 

Pete is the distraction, and the mouth. Given that Pete can’t shut up on a bad day, there’s no telling how much shit will come out of his mouth on today of all days. And there’s one particular set of words that Pete is in charge of getting out.

Brendon’s role, well Brendon’s mainly there for Frank so that he doesn’t fucking implode on himself, but his goal is to make sure that Gerard does what Frank needs him to do, and to make sure that Mikey doesn’t mess something up. He’s the eyes and ears of the operation. 

Mikey is the loose cannon. He refuses to get involved because he doesn’t want to be the guy who meddles in his brother’s romance, but he’ll try to stay out of Frank’s way anyway. 

After tonight, Frank is going to be one broke ass son of a bitch, but hopefully he’ll be one with a boyfriend. 

The plan starts actually at about three in the morning when Frank wakes up and realizes that he can’t get back to sleep. He paces around his room, checking his watch every few seconds hoping that the time has either stopped or fast forwarded. He’s not sure which he wants more. 

He doesn’t know what to do. He’s so ripe with anticipation that he thinks he could combust. He decides to take a shower and to make himself look as pretty as he can, which is not very much so because Frank has no skill whatsoever. At least his pimple, Earl, is long deceased. Now he’s just got regular old acne that makes him look as young as he tells his mom he isn’t. 

Frank steps out of the shower, hoping that he has now wasted an hour, when in fact it is still a quarter to four. But now he smells like apples so maybe this will make him more appealing. 

Frank sits on his bed ten minutes later, and still he cannot shut up his brain. All he can think about is every single thing that might go wrong with the plan, and he just needs it to work. He needs Gerard’s birthday to be perfect. He needs Gerard to know that he’s crazy for him and that nothing is going to stop that. He just needs Gerard.

He needs Gerard and his stupidly perfect smile, and he needs to hear Gerard talk from only one side of his mouth, and he needs to feel Gerard’s insanely warm arms around him. He just needs that stupid lovingly sincere, adorably chubby, motherfucker to realize that Frank wants nothing in life more than he wants him. 

Frank has reread both of the letters from Gerard a million times, and he reads them again as he sits on his bed waiting for the minutes to pass. He smiles because he can hear them both in Gerard’s voice. He can hear the inflection that Gerard put on each word when he wrote them. He can hear Gerard scrapping and rewriting this letter a dozen times before deciding it was perfect. He can hear all of it, and he just wants to know that he has what the Gerard writing these letters has. 

He wants to be so domestic that he doesn’t bat and eyelash at the word ‘potluck’ and doesn’t even care that his next door neighbor is called Susan. He wants to argue with Gerard as to whether an occasion is special enough for them to break out the wedding china. He wants to hear Gerard yell at a self-checkout machine when it won’t scan his tangerines. He wants to watch Gilmore Girls on a Friday night wrapped in a blanket the size of Manhattan.

Frank finishes rereading the second note, and his heart sinks. It’s not even because of the fear of death or the weight of what he has to do against all odds. It’s because he’s so truly terrified of messing things up with Gerard so much that he doesn’t get Gerard at all. 

Frank doesn’t know how it is that he, an eighteen-year-old kid with as few long-term aspirations as he has left feet, is already so set on who he wants to marry. He knows he can attest some of it to the letter and the future that he knows he’s going to have, but honestly, Frank is a very stubborn person. If it were anything else, Frank would think of this destiny for him to be with Gerard as a challenge for him to show that it’s not true. He would do anything to prove everyone wrong, show the world that he’s not destined for Gerard. Flip off the man who’s telling him that his future has already been planned. 

But he doesn’t think like that remotely. He wants this. He wants his future, and he wants Gerard.

Frank doesn’t even know what he’s going to major in next year at college. He’s not even positive he wants to even fucking _go_ to college.

But he is sure that he wants Gerard, and honestly, that’s enough. 

Several millennia later, or so it feels, Frank finds himself standing in front of the school building, waiting for any sign of Gerard or Ray. He’ll probably see Ray first, his hair is like a beacon. You can’t lose Ray in a crowd, you just look for the guy whose head could arguably be used as a museum exhibit on static electricity. 

“There,” Brendon says, pointing to someone who’s just now arriving from one of the buses. Frank’s eyes find the spot and he sees Gerard, Mikey, and Ray, walking towards the building slowly. Gerard doesn’t look overly upset or perturbed, but he doesn’t look very gleeful either. Frank doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

Ray spots them, and he allows Gerard and Mikey to go on ahead as he jogs to meet Frank, Pete, and Brendon standing by the flag pole.

“So?”

“I dropped the first gift off in front of his house,” Ray says, “he knew it was from you the second he saw it.”

“Good reaction or bad?” Frank asks.

“Well he didn’t throw it away,” Ray says, “but I’m not sure he was happy that it was from you.”

“It could have been worse,” Frank says. “You should go, you’ve got to beat Gerard back to his locker.”

“Mikey said they’d take a circuitous route, but I should go get that done anyway,” Ray nods. Frank nods and hopes that Ray gets it there in time. Frank did not blow all of his savings for this to not go perfectly. 

Frank bought Gerard a total of five gifts. One to be given to him in the morning, and one for every morning period, each to arrive in his locker, one after another. One of which is the signed copy of Abbey Road that he’s had his eyes on for about three months and cost more than a plane ticket, but this is Gerard. That’s the most expensive thing he’s bought, but it’s not the most intimate. Technically that award would go to the inexplicable pillow he happened to find with Morrissey’s face on it which is both perfect for Gerard and creepy. Frank has been mentally picking gifts out for Gerard for the last few weeks though so it wasn’t actually that hard to find five.

He bought Gerard five gifts that is, and he made one of them. With the help of his mother, because Frank is just that cool, he constructed what he thinks is probably the worst, but hopefully most endearing, birthday cake that has ever graced this earth. There’s a good chance it might be a giant hockey puck, but Frank is an optimist. 

“Alright,” Frank says, turning to Pete. “Pete, you know what to do?”

“Yep,” Pete nods, “I’m on it.”

The ball can only roll if Pete fulfills his end of the bargain. Pete is the one Frank is relying on the most, because Ray’s only a few steps in a much larger plan. Frank nods, and hopes that Pete does not fuck this up. Although Frank probably trusts Pete more than any other person in the entire world, he still worries that Pete is somehow going to mess up.

Frank’s not entirely sure he wants to do this, but he is sure that he’s got to do something, and this is the only way that he thinks Gerard will realize how much he means to Frank. Frank loves that guy so much and he doesn’t want him slipping through his fingers.

“I’m trusting you Pete,” Frank says.

“I don’t wanna let you down, okay? I promise you I’ll do everything, and I’ll do it right,” Pete says. 

“Okay,” Frank says and instead turns his gaze to Brendon, “You have more classes with him than either me or Pete-”

“Dude I know, I got it, you can relax,” Brendon says.

“Are you sure, because-”

“Frank, I was sure the first thirteen times you asked me, I’m sure now as well.”

“Alright,” Frank nods, “I’m just a little on edge, okay?” 

“Yeah, I get it, but it’s fine. Everything is going to work out, Frank,” Brendon says.

“Yeah, dude,” Pete chips in, “Gerard isn’t stupid enough not to realize how much work you’re putting into all of this. If he’s got a smart bone in his body, he’ll come crawling back to you.”

“I don’t want him to be the one crawling, I’m the one who fucked up in the first place,” Frank says, even though he still thinks that he has a good point. 

“Just take deep breaths,” Brendon says, and checks his watch, “listen, I’ve got to go, okay? You just calm yourself and try not to pass out.”

“Easier said than done,” Frank groans. 

He finally relents to go into the school, not because he wants to, but because he’s probably going to be getting into enough trouble today as it is, he doesn’t want to add tardiness to that list. 

Frank hides behind a wall so that he can spy on Gerard as he opens his locker a few minutes later. He’s waiting for him to smile or wonder how Frank managed to open his locker or something. Any reaction at all. But what Frank sees is simply nothing. Gerard has a blank expression. He sees the bag, doesn’t even open it, doesn’t even make a move to touch it. All he does is grab his textbook for first period and shove it into his backpack. 

Frank can’t resist any longer. He feels like he hasn’t talked to Gerard in years, even though it hasn’t been twenty-four hours. Anytime not spent with Gerard is a century of loneliness, and Frank will never get over how fucking cheesy and cliché he is around this guy. 

Gerard starts to walk down the hall, headed to his next class, when Frank decides to walk away from his hiding spot, directly in Gerard’s path. There are other people walking around them on either side, what feels like hundreds of people whose faces have no names. Their names are just as lost to him as Gerard’s had been so little time ago.

“What do you want Frank?” Gerard asks, looking already completely done with him.

“I just… I don’t know,” Frank says, “I just want you to not be mad at me.”

“I want you to not be ashamed of me,” Gerard says.

“I’m ashamed of myself, you know that,” Frank says.

“Whatever,” Gerard says, rolling his eyes, and he brushes past Frank with that, hitting his shoulder on his way past. Frank turns to watch him walk away and feels completely alone standing there and watching Gerard leave. 

Frank yells after him, “Happy birthday.” Gerard doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s heard him. 

There’s no one in this school but the two of them. Just Gerard walking down an empty hallway, the sound of his feet on the ground echoing off the walls. But the minute Gerard turns the hallway, lost from Frank’s sight, all the other people around him come back into focus. The school isn’t empty. They’re not the only ones anymore. Now there’s a dozen people rushing past and none of them care that Frank’s heart is bleeding through his chest.

Frank makes his way solemnly to his first class, feeling like this isn’t going to work. It has to work. It has to be perfect, and Gerard has to love him. It’s all got to happen. Frank knows that it has to but that doesn’t make it any easier to face the reality that it isn’t happening yet. And he wants to tell himself that it has to, that it’s destiny, but he’s never been good at being the optimist he claims he is, and he’s not going to start now when everything is standing against him.

There isn’t a second of the hour where Frank can concentrate on his teacher or on anything but his own heartbeat. He needs to stop everything and listen to his own heart because he feels like if he doesn’t, he’ll go completely insane. He’s a bundle of nerves, and if anything disturbs his breathing rate, he just might explode.

The sound of the bell ringing is both a mercy and a death sentence. He feels as though his heart is made of lead because he knows that if Pete has done what he was meant to, Frank’s life has now changed forever. It’s already too late. It’s already happening around him.

Frank picks himself up from his seat, feeling like his feet each way a ton. He drags his body to the doorway, and walks out, looking around, waiting to see if anyone is looking at him differently. He doesn’t know how quick this will all be. He doesn’t know if it’ll happen at all, though if history has taught him anything it’s that it always repeats itself.

He wishes that he’d had the courage to do this himself, but instead he needed Pete’s help. He probably wouldn’t have been able to do this if he didn’t have someone to do it for him. He couldn’t have stood up on a table at lunch to scream it out, even if the gesture might have been more grand. It just wouldn’t have happened; he wouldn’t have been able to do it.

Frank eyes Pete walking down the hall across from him a moment later, there are too many people between them for Frank to just go over to him, but when Frank raises an eyebrow at him, Pete nods curtly, telling him silently that it’s been done. Frank’s body feels chalky and he’s going to have a cold sweat about this all day, but he’s got to do it. Gerard is too important to risk letting go.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Brendon asks, somehow coming up from behind him without him noticing. He might have been there the whole time and Frank’s just so focused on his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice.

“It’s too late now,” Frank says. 

“I just hope you know what you’re doing,” Brendon says.

“If I knew what I was doing, that wouldn’t make it love,” Frank replies, because people say love is blind for a reason. No one knows what they’re doing and that’s how you know it’s real.

Right about now, Gerard is probably finding the third gift in his locker. Hopefully he’s starting to soften up a little bit. Frank doesn’t want to get his hopes up though. 

Second, third, and fourth period edge by in a tantalizing crawl. It takes four centuries just for Frank to make it to lunch, and he sure has noticed a difference.

People keep getting texts in the middle of class. Their phones buzz so everyone in the room besides the teacher hears it, but every time anyone’s head lowers to look under the desk, they all look at Frank before putting their phone away. It’s happening all around him and he can’t stop it. He wants to, he really wants to, because he doesn’t want any of this, but it had to be done. From the start it had to be done. 

In the halls, Frank is a magnet to every set of eyes he walks past. Pete’s mouth is as big as he had hoped, Frank supposes, but it’s disconcerting to say the least.

Brendon finds Frank at his locker and doesn’t say anything as a greeting, but instead shoves his phone under Frank’s nose. Brendon’s got three unread text messages from people who Frank doesn’t even know, and they’re all talking about him.

“So I’m the gay kid now,” Frank says.

“Looks like it,” Brendon nods.

Frank had underestimated how quick rumors spread throughout this school. He had thought it would take at least until the end of the day for the whole entire school to know he’s gay, but it took half that time. 

“The world loves a good gay kid to objectify, doesn’t it?” Frank says, closing his locker and ducking his head as he walks down the hall to the cafeteria, a walking neon sign to everyone else apparently.

Gerard is already sitting at the table when Frank gets to the cafeteria. He’s there by himself, looking blankly at a wall in front of him. He looks as broken and emotionless as Frank feels right now. He hates being away from Gerard, hates being the new school scandal, and he hates that it’s his own fault that all of this is happening.

Frank walks to the table, not seeing any of his friends anywhere in sight. He doesn’t know if this is by plan or what, but even Brendon, who’d been standing beside him a moment ago isn’t there anymore. This part he didn’t plan, and he suddenly feels completely out of control. Like he’s a car swerving on ice, he doesn’t feel like he has a steer on anything, not even his own thoughts.

Mindlessly, Frank feels his feet drag him to the table until he’s standing in front of their table, eyes looking at him from every corner of the lunch room, making him feel like a museum exhibit. 

When he finally stops, Gerard doesn’t acknowledge him, he just sits there staring straight ahead. Frank feels all the more hopeless at this development. 

“Hi,” Frank says, and Gerard looks up at him, which is more than Frank had expected.

“What?” Gerard asks, with an accusatory tone.

“I just, I’m sorry,” Frank says.

“Sorry?” Gerard asks, not looking impressed. “That’s great.”

“I am. I thought that you might understand that I honestly am not trying to hurt you. _I’m_ the coward here.”

“I know you are,” Gerard says.

“Did you like any of the gifts?” Frank asks.

“A couple albums, a book, and whatever else you think I’m so materialistic as to want, and you think I’m going to forgive you?” Gerard asks.

“It’s not about th-the gifts, Gerard. It’s about sentiment, and I’m doing my best, I just want you to know that I care about you,” Frank pleads.

“I have no doubt that you care about me,” Gerard says, “I really don’t. But that’s not what is important here. What I care about is that you care enough not to let other people’s opinions get in the way of how you feel.”

“I’m always going to be a self-conscious person.”

“I don’t know why you thought a couple gifts were going to change that. I’m still mad at you.”

Frank sighs, “Okay, so it’s like this. I am not very good at this whole relationship thing, as it seems. I’ve never had one before, I’m throwing blind darts here. I don’t know how to get you to forgive me, because I have fucked up. I know one thing though, and it’s that I like you a lot. But I don’t even care if you like me back as much as I like you, Gerard. I know you don’t. I like you _a lot_. So goddamn much that no words can express it. I know that you can’t like me back as much as I like you but that doesn’t change the fact that I want nothing more than for you to look at me and see a tenth of as much as what I see when I look at you.”

“I don’t need you to tell me this,” Gerard says. He doesn’t want to hear Frank pouring his heart out right now when all Gerard wants is for Frank to give him something that he can’t. 

“Gerard,” Frank groans, his head falling to the table as he tries to think of the words he needs to say, “Gerard, I don’t care if this is too fast, I don’t care if you think I’m an idiot, I don’t care if everyone in the world thinks I’m a dumb teenager. I am so crazy for you that the world stands still when I look in your eyes. My heart stops when you smile at me. I understand what Pablo fucking Neruda was always talking about, and I’m pretty sure that I empathize with a character that Katherine Heigl played once. I am suffocating every second that you’re angry at me, and I just don’t know how to tell you that my internal monologue when I’m around you is just that old Cascada song.”

“Frank, I don’t want our relationship to be a secret that we keep between less than ten people. I don’t need it published in a magazine or written on a billboard but I would like for it not to be something that you’d deny if asked about.”

“And I don’t want you to have that,” Frank says.

“But you still can’t hold my hand in this school because you’re afraid of what people will think.”

“No,” Frank says, shaking his head. “I get it. I get why you think I’m childish, and I get why you don’t want this to be a secret, because your worthy of me showing you off to people. Not that that’s all I think of you as, as a trophy, because I think far more of you than that. I just mean to say that you are too good for me to be afraid of admitting that I like you. You are right. I’m not saying my brain is completely on board with the fact that you’re right, because my nerves and anxiety are still there, but I want you to know that I recognize that I am at fault.”

“It’s good to hear that you can take some responsibility, but Frank, I can’t be with you if I have to be a secret. I just can’t. I don’t have it in me to put all my energy into a relationship that no one acknowledges. It’s not fair to me, and it reduces whatever that relationship would mean.”

“Gerard,” Frank says, “I understand. And that’s why my penultimate gift to you is simply my coming out.”

“Your what?” Gerard asks.

“I’m out, Gerard,” Frank says simply. “I didn’t have the courage to announce it myself, but I hope you can accept that I did it anyway. Pete started a rumor earlier this morning. Given that Pete is my best friend, it’s not hard for people to think that it’s true. Everyone knows Gerard.”

“You mean…?” Gerard asks, looking confused and drifting off. Frank watches as he looks around him, studying some of the faces around their table to try to see if he can sense the difference.

“Gerard,” Frank says, “I am absolutely terrified of being the gay kid. I would rather be shot in the foot. I am a giant bundle of nerves right now, and I wouldn’t have done this if someone had held a gun to my head. I would never willingly have let the whole school know. Not until I met you at least. Before you, I couldn’t tell Pete or Brendon. I couldn’t tell my own mother for god’s sake. But Gerard, everyone knows now. My mom, the whole school, my best friends, someone has probably CC’d Jesus. The point is that I am willing to put my fear aside if it means you’ll give me a chance.”

“You told _everyone_?” Gerard asks.

“Well, indirectly I told the whole school, but yeah, everyone knows,” Frank says. 

“For me?” Gerard asks, looking even more confused. Gerard honestly doesn’t feel like he’s worthy of a sacrifice like that.

“It’s what I needed to do to get you to realize that I’m committed,” Frank says.

Gerard feels like a horrible person. He feels like the scum of the earth, gum that’s so unworthy of the bottom of a shoe that it resides forever under a park bench. All of this Frank did for him. Gerard could see the fear in his eyes when he’d brought it up to Frank. He could see the absolute terror at the prospect of the whole school knowing Frank’s secret. Frank couldn’t tell even his own best friends and mother. But he has now. He’s told everyone. And he did it for Gerard.

Gerard doesn’t know how to tell Frank that Gerard’s undeserving of him. He doesn’t want to be the one to put into perspective for Frank, the magnitude of how underserving of Frank he is. Gerard just isn’t good enough for Frank. He’s just not. He wants more from this relationship than Frank possibly can and the mere possibility that Frank is willing to give up finding someone worthy for him, simply to be with Gerard, it’s not fair to him. 

Gerard’s the one who had been adamant that this relationship not go past high school, but it’s not because he doesn’t think he’ll like Frank enough to make it last. That’s not it at all. He just doesn’t want Frank to feel as though he’s been tied down. He doesn’t want to hold Frank back, because Frank’s going to go places, Gerard can see it. Frank is going to be someone, and Gerard is just going to be a pencil pusher, and that’s if he’s lucky. 

The truth is, Gerard wants nothing more than to be Frank’s boyfriend, or more, for the rest of their goddamn lives, but he knows that even if Frank feels the same way now, he won’t in ten years.

“Frank,” Gerard says shaking his head, and Frank’s heart falls. He was hoping for a positive response. This looks like the opposite of what he wants.

“Fuck.”

“You should hate me,” Gerard says, his voice so quiet that Frank can barely hear it.

“I could never hate you.”

“You should though,” Gerard insists. “I’m not good enough for you, and we both know it. I’m needy, and I’m annoying, and I’m stubborn, and I’m short tempered.”

“And I’m neurotic, obsessive, immature, and cynical. We’re all flawed, it doesn’t make me like you any less.”

“But you go to all this trouble, and it’s for me. For me! I don’t deserve this. You should be repelled by me. Repulsed. You _shouldn’t_ like me.”

“But I do,” Frank says. “I can’t prevent that.” 

Gerard groans, and looks at the ceiling, and Frank’s scared at the fact that he looks close to crying, “I am so totally and fully scared that someday you are going to get bored with me. You are going to realize you can do better, and I’ll just be left to pick up the pieces of myself that I let you break.”

“I am not going to get bored,” Frank responds, finding the thought of it unfathomable. He could listen to a play by play story of Gerard flossing. He would probably by the screen rights for it. There’s no way he could get bored with Gerard.

“Yes you-”

“Gerard, the past few weeks I have been literally wigging out for every second of every day for fear that you might not like me as much as I like you. I’ve been… festering. Fuck, that sounds gross, but I have. I can’t think about anything but you, I got a D on a math test last week because I was daydreaming about how it would feel to kiss you, and that was before I actually got the chance to kiss you. Now every second that goes by where I’m not kissing you is wasted.”

“I just don’t think you realize how unworthy of you I am.”

“Well firstly, if anyone is settling for the other it’s you, because I am a tiny man with nothing but flaws and your only vice is probably that you can’t see how perfect you are, and you know I mean it because I want to stab myself in the mouth for how cheesy that was, but it’s true.”

“Frank…” Gerard drifts off.

“I don’t want you to concern yourself with whether you think there’s an imbalance here,” Frank says, and he remembers Gerard, or Gee, saying almost the exact same thing, and he can’t believe how much the tables have turned. If only Gerard knew what he’d look like in ten years, there’s definitely no way he’d think that Frank was settling. “The fact of the matter is that I like you and I don’t see why you need to dwell on the specifics as to why that is.”

“Poetic,” Gerard says, and Frank almost laughs because he’s literally quoting Gerard. Gerard just inadvertently called himself poetic.

“Can we just… kiss and make up?” Frank asks looking hopeful. 

“I don’t know, Frank.”

“Well do you like me?” Frank asks bluntly.

“Well, yeah,” Gerard says, because it’s obvious. He’s like this guy for over five years. He’s dreamt about Frank in ways that would probably make Frank run away as soon as he heard the details. Gerard hasn’t had a crush on anyone as strong as the way he feels for Frank. And the fact that he has pretended to hate him for so long makes that crush a little bit more painful. It makes the way he feels exponentially stronger.

“Then don’t hurt yourself trying to overthink this. It doesn’t need to be any more complicated than you liking me, and me liking you.”

Gerard doesn’t look entirely sure but Frank raises an eyebrow at him, and Gerard doesn’t think he can handle it. He doesn’t believe that. Love is complicated, that’s what everyone says about it. There is more to it than just the two of them liking each other. But Frank does have a point. The both of them do like each other. They both know that. Given that information, it does sound a little idiotic that two people who both like each other aren’t dating. What other solution would there be for that kind of data? It’s just the most obvious thing to do. 

And Frank is gorgeous. Frank can pull off anything. He’s pulled off thirty different haircuts that Gerard has maybe been too interested in over the years. He can make even the most boring topics interesting. It’s like with Frank, Gerard has learned a new emotion. One that he never knew existed. There’s glee, there’s joy, there’s complete ecstasy, but there’s no word that can really capture how he feels about Frank. 

Gerard is still wary of the almost indisputable knowledge that Frank will someday get bored with him. That fear is still there, and it’s rooted itself at the bottom of his stomach, making him feel sick just to consider. But still, this is Frank. He doesn’t want to experience what it’ll feel like when Frank will someday ditch him. But then again, it doesn’t seem any less painful to never even get to know what it’d be like to be with him at all. He doesn’t want to be hurt, but he’d rather actually give the two of them a chance and have it fail than not try at all.

“Alright,” Gerard says.

“Alright?” Frank repeats hopefully.

“I don’t want to-” Gerard pauses, “I don’t want to look back on this and have to ask myself ‘what if.’”

“So can I climb over the table and kiss you now?” 

Gerard smiles, in a way that makes it look like he’s trying not to. There’s something about Frank that just makes him jittery. Sometimes when Frank touches him, it’s almost like he can see ten years into the future and he can picture himself still with Frank. He knows he’s just a wishful thinking teenager but it still feels like there’s something real between the two of them, even if every fiber in Gerard’s body knows that it’s implausible. Maybe some part of him thinks that it might not be. Maybe there is a part of him that believes that he and Frank can actually be for forever.

Frank takes Gerard’s smile as a yes, and he’s almost about to hesitate kissing Gerard when he remembers that everyone fucking knows, or suspects at the very least. He’s got literally nothing to lose anymore.

The table is long and thin which is good because Frank is short and small, so he just barely manages to actually clear the table, though his feet are no longer touching the ground. But he finally kisses Gerard again, and that’s all that matters.

This kiss should be uncomfortable, because Frank’s got literally a whole table digging into him, and Gerard’s just kind of sitting there like a piece of wood, not even bothering to get closer so Frank is basically planking on a cafeteria table, but it’s fine with him, because Gerard is a damn good kisser. He’s the kind of kisser that teenage girls in movies talk about while Avril Lavigne plays in the distance. Frank doesn’t even think that his brain is giving Gerard too much credit because he’s absolutely in love with the guy, Gerard’s genuinely just that good of a kisser.

“You’re going to ruin my life,” Frank says, grinning like an idiot when he pulls away, but he doesn’t get off the table, he still wants to stare into Gerard’s eyes for a couple more seconds. And maybe kiss him again.

“In a good way?” Gerard asks.

“Absolutely,” Frank says, leaning in to kiss Gerard again, but he’s interrupted a moment before he can by a very obnoxious honking sound, followed by an equally annoying pop. 

When Frank turns around he sees Pete, Brendon, and Ray with a not as excited looking Mikey. Ray’s got one of those party horn things that make an obnoxious sound that nobody actually likes and yet they continue to exist, and Brendon, Frank realizes too late has a confetti shooter, and the popping sound he heard is why he is all of a sudden covered in tiny pieces of paper. 

“What the fuck,” Frank says, sitting down and shaking bits of confetti out of his hair while literally everyone in the cafeteria is staring at the wankers who just made this mess.

“You’re cleaning this up,” Gerard says, brushing confetti off of his food.

“We’re aware that it’s a slightly premeditative celebration since you’ll probably break up again in two days, but it’s Gerard’s birthday, confetti had to be flung at some point!” Brendon says, taking the seat next to Frank, who gets a handful of confetti and places it carefully on Brendon’s head. Brendon shakes it off like a dog, but Frank decides that it was worth it.

“I brought the cake!” Pete says excitedly, holding the sorry excuse of a cake that Frank had made, and it looks worse now than it had earlier. “If it’s inedible, just remember that Frank’s the one who made it.”

“My will to live is going to exempt me from eating that thing,” Mikey says, making a face as he takes a seat next to Gerard, who looks honestly quite pleased right now.

“Pretty sure I saw it moving earlier,” Pete says grinning.

“You’re so bad at baking that you made a sentient cake?” Gerard asks Frank.

“All my talent is in Candy Crush Saga, I don’t know how to do anything that uses anything more than two fingers.”

Ray, instead of adding any rude remarks about Frank’s cake, blows the horn again and he honestly hates that sound so much that he debates whether getting back together with Gerard is even worth it.

“I’m so happy for you too,” Pete says, honestly looking like this is the best thing ever, and it’s partly because Pete, who was a dog in a former life, is excited by everything. 

“Our very own Ross and Rachel,” Brendon says.

“Ew,” Ray makes a face, “who pulled the short straw and has to be Ross?”

“Sorry, let’s go with Harvey and Sabrina,” Brendon clarifies. Frank and Gerard’s eyes meet and Frank can see that Gerard’s in utter disbelief that the two of them are so unlucky as to be friends with these weird ass people.

Pete, ironically, thinks the exact opposite because he wraps his arms around Brendon and Frank who are on either side of him and says, “I love all of you guys.” And well, Frank wouldn’t admit it, but that kind of sums up the way he feels too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, unfortunately, this is the final chapter apart from the epilogue, but the good news is that there will be at least three separate fics that will go along with this one, so be ready for those!


	36. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't wanna see you go, but it's not forever.

“What the everloving _fuck_ is a cummerbund?” Mikey can be heard shouting from probably every room in Frank’s house.

“Isn’t that the guy from Sherlock?” Brendon asks.

“I said cummerbund, not the creature from the black lagoon,” Mikey says, shouting. “You know what, fuck the cummerbund. Fuck the tie!”

“Yeah, just go naked,” Frank says, rolling his eyes.

“Pete probably wouldn’t mind,” Brendon says.

Someone knocks on the door at that, and Ray sticks his head in looking annoyed, “hurry up, you guys. Your dates are waiting.”

“I don’t have a date,” Brendon says, pouting, “I’m all alone in this world.”

“Damn straight,” Mikey says.

“Okay, do you mean damn straight as in, ‘darn tootin’, or do you mean like ‘fucking heterosexuals,’ because if it’s the latter you deserve a high five,” Frank says.

“Who the fuck says darn tootin?” Mikey asks. “What year is it, 1925?”

“Seriously though,” Ray says, “hurry your asses up. Unless one of you is defusing a bomb in here, it shouldn’t be taking this long.”

“I don’t know how to do a tie!” Mikey says, whining and stomping a little bit like he’s a small child, which cannot be definitively ruled out. Frank gawks at him utterly awestruck at the fact that there is something in this world mikeyway does not know how to do. Frank was under the impression that he could hand Mikey a saxophone and he would know how to play it without ever having seen one before. Mikey’s just that kind of person. He can literally do everything. 

“Oh my god,” Brendon says, and Frank starts nodding until Brendon continues, “at least have the forethought to buy a clip on like I did!” Brendon unclips his tie to demonstrate his superior intelligence, much to the total horror of Frank. 

“Do I have to do everything around here?” Frank asks, walking over to Mikey and starting on the tie for him. Frank went to catholic school for several years before he could convince his mom to free him from the agony. Of course he knows how to tie a tie.

He finishes Mikey’s tie and Mikey says creepily, “do I look pretty?”

“Gorgeous,” Ray says, “now hurry your ass up.”

“We’re coming!” Frank shouts back at him.

“Hurry the fuck up would you,” Gerard yells from downstairs and Frank gets a little giddy inside, thinking about Gerard waiting for him down there. Probably looking like a million bucks and thinking that he’s not worth a dime. Frank intends to prove him wrong one of these days.

Frank gets to the top of the stairs and he’s about to go downstairs before he gets a thought.

“Somebody play something epic!” Frank calls down the stairs. He wants his entrance to be as epic as he deserves, and Frank deserves the best in his opinion. That’s why he’s got Gerard, because he deserves the best that the world has to offer him. 

“I’ve got the Pokémon theme tune on my phone,” Pete shouts back.

“I was really thinking something more along the lines of The Final Countdown, but that’ll work just as well,” Frank responds. He waits for Pete, and hears the sound of the actual Pokémon theme tune a moment later. It takes every will inside of his entire body to not sing along. 

And that’s how Frank makes his entrance. In the grandest way humanly possible. To the Pokémon theme tune. He’s the first one to walk down the stairs and when he sees Gerard, Gerard is looking at him with the rolling of his eyes evident on his face, but he’s smiling. Frank doesn’t care that he might look like an idiot, or a penguin, because Gerard is still waiting there to meet him. Gerard’s always going to be there to meet him, Frank thinks. 

“Well fuck me, all of you are showing off to your dates,” Brendon scowls, walking behind the two of them, with Ray soon to follow. Brendon had tried to petition to let him take his dog to the prom but the school wouldn’t let him. He’s probably bitter more because of that then because he doesn’t have a date. Ray looks annoyed as he follows the three of them down the stairs, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“Wait, I’m not supposed to see you!” Pete says, covering his eyes for a second before Gerard smacks him over the head.

“That’s if you’re a bride on your wedding day, you dolt,” Gerard says. “And Mikey ain’t no bride.”

“Oh, right,” Pete says, bringing his hands down and then looking at Mikey who honestly looks like he’s on the verge of either throwing a table at Pete or screwing him _on_ a table. 

“You look so generic, like you rented a twenty-dollar tux from a costume store,” Gerard says when Frank makes his way over to him.

“Excuse you,” Frank says, “this was thirty dollars.”

“All for me?” Gerard says, pretending to look surprised and honored.

“All for you!” Frank plays along.

“Darling you shouldn’t have,” Gerard says, with a terribly offensive British accent.

“What did you bring me?” Frank asks, seeing that Gerard is holding something and Frank likes presents. He still has a six-year-old boy on Christmas day trapped inside of him. 

“I got you a corsage, but like, I didn’t want to get you a normal corsage, so I got you a corsage with the bat symbol on it,” Gerard says, holding out the corsage that does indeed have the Batman logo on it. Frank grins as Gerard puts it around his wrist. There’s no gift in the entire world that could possibly make Gerard more endearing than a corsage with the bat symbol.

“I was going to get you a boutonniere, but I thought it would be too boring, so I got you a Stormtrooper pin,” Frank replies. He takes Gerard’s lapel, and puts the pin in place, feeling Gerard eyeing him with the same total adoration that Frank has for him.

“Oh my god there’s two of them,” Mikey says, looking at Gerard and Frank with disgust.

“You’re perfect for each other,” Pete says, grinning like a maniac, because he loves love. Especially stupid romantic gestures, Pete’s just a syrupy mess for things like that.

“They didn’t even coordinate it,” Mikey shakes his head, “I know, I’m the one he kept bugging at two in the morning with pictures on Etsy.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” Pete says, reaching into his pocket, “unless you want half a Twix bar.”

Meanwhile, Ray is standing over by his date, a girl called Christa who Frank wasn’t aware existed. He thinks that he should probably start focusing on his friends lives now that the enormous fucking wave of chaos is over with. And Brendon is standing in the corner eating Doritos but what else is new. 

Frank’s mom demands to huddle them all together for at least an entire five gigabits worth of pictures before she’ll let any of them even consider leaving. Frank knows that by the time they get there, the punch is already going to have been spiked so Frank really wants to hurry up so that he can put a fake bug in it. 

Given that it is prom night, and given that Frank’s entire life is a bad teenage movie, of course they’re going to prom in a fucking limo. How else do you arrive at prom when you’re a bunch of seniors who are literally incapable of affording college next year? Of course you have to spend an inordinate amount of money so that you can look like a bunch of twats as you arrive to prom behind a literally five block line of other rented limos. And Prince is probably in town so one of them is going to be a purple limo. Because no teenage movie is complete without a random celebrity cameo, and unfortunately, James Van Der Beek was unavailable. 

“If all goes well,” Mikey says, “Gerard and Frank will only break up twice tonight.”

“Ha ha,” Frank says stalely, but it’s true. It’s been barely a month and they’ve broken up about six times now.

“If it goes really well,” Ray pipes in, “Mikey and Pete won’t get arrested for public indecency.”

“You blow a guy behind _one_ dumpster and all of a sudden you’re a sex freak,” Mikey says, followed by a chorus of ‘ews’ and groans, and someone, Frank isn’t going to take the credit for it, but someone, throws a shoe at him.

“Forgetting the fact that my little brother is disgusting,” Gerard says, “Frank and I haven’t broken up in like two weeks.”

“I know,” Ray says, shaking his head, “and I’m out thirty bucks because of it.”

“Break up bingo,” Mikey explains to Ray’s very confused date. “I got fifty for the time Frank tackled Gerard outside a concert hall.”

“Some dude was offering him a cigarette and I was not letting that happen,” Frank says, because he thinks he was well warranted to tackle Gerard. Gee had literally warned him of that event and Frank is true to his word. He would never be able to live with himself if he failed the one task that Gee had made for him, aside of course from the grand design of it all. 

“I still think you got it on a technicality,” Brendon says begrudgingly. 

“We’re not _that_ bad,” Frank says, because they have worked out most of the kinks that were causing them friction at the start. It’s mostly been about ironing out what wasn’t working and learning to settle with it. Neither of them have ever been in a real relationship before each other. It’s not easy trying to figure things out when no one else around you knows how to do it either. No one ever said love was easy. Love is actually really fucking hard, and tiring. But when it’s with Gerard, Frank is more certain than he is of anything else, that it’s so damn worth it. 

“Let’s change the subject before someone loses and eyeball for rolling it so hard. Who brought the champagne?” Brendon asks.

“We don’t have champagne,” Pete says, “but I brought Capri Sun.”

“Let’s get the party started,” Brendon shrugs.

“Who wants a juice pouch?” Pete asks, looking excitedly as he grabs a cooler from the floor. Frank doesn’t know how he snuck that in here without any of them noticing. 

“Only if you have fucking grape,” Frank says.

“Feisty,” Pete scolds before tossing him a juice pouch, which are usually superior to juice boxes because they double as squirt guns.

“This calls for a toast,” Brendon says when Pete’s handed out all his juice boxes, before he grabs two for himself, and puts a straw in each. Frank knew Pete when he was a little kid, he knows very well that Pete has a thing for drinking two juices at once. It’s a Pete thing, it doesn’t make sense, but Pete’s mind is laid out differently than everyone else’s. There’s a very real chance that Pete was supposed to be a dog but someone flicked the wrong switch and he accidentally got labeled as a human. 

“To what?” Gerard asks. 

Frank thinks for a moment, before saying, “to the chasing of moons.”

“The what?” Brendon asks, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Frank smirks, “just that the future is an ominous and on-looming beast, and I don’t know what it has in store for me, but I’m excited to find out. I’ll sleep better every night knowing that when the moon goes down my future grows nearer.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Gerard says, smiling widely at Frank, in awe of how he managed to land such a perfect boy. Because Gerard is a sap for Frank, and it doesn’t matter how stupid the words out of Frank’s mouth are, he still loves them. He makes fun of Frank a lot, but that’s part of the love, it’s a package deal. 

“That’s a fucking pretentions way of saying ‘here’s to the future’. You’d have to be some dumbass loser from fucking Minnesota to think that makes any sense.” 

“Now that’s a toast I can get behind,” Mikey says, looking over at Pete who’s grinning madly with two straws in his mouth. And Mikey is presented with that damn table predicament again.

The limo rolls into the school parking lot not too much later, and it’s a mad house of people. Everyone is getting there at the same time, because it started an hour ago and everyone wants to be fashionably late. 

“Who’s ready for the worst night of their life!” Gerard says excitedly. 

“Can’t wait to look back on this day in ten years and shudder with disgust and internal regret,” Frank grins. But at least he’ll be doing that with Gerard. Probably looking through a photo album, and trying their best not to laugh at their old haircuts. 

The rest of them all make either groaning sounds are fake cheering sounds, while Pete looks genuinely excited. He’d be the only one. Except Frank, who just doesn’t want to admit it. 

Frank grabs Gerard before he leaves the limo, needing to have one minute alone with him before they go in there surrounded by hundreds of people. Tonight is the most important night of their teenage lives, or so teen dramas would have you believe. Frank thinks that every night spent with Gerard is the most important day of his life. 

“What’s up?” Gerard asks, looking concerned.

“I just want you to know that I love you,” Frank says, and Gerard’s blush appears almost immediately. 

“I love you too,” Gerard says, looking a little scared of saying the words. Not because he doesn’t mean them, but because he doesn’t want to have to hear them out loud coming from his mouth. It’s not untrue to say them, but he’s never heard his own voice say it out loud to Frank, even though he’s been thinking those words over and over for every second of every minute spent with Frank. 

The second it’s out there, it feels right. He doesn’t know how long he’s going to have with Frank, so he needs for Frank to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that it’s true and it always will be. They’re gay, if their life were a movie, one of them would die before the credits, so it’s important for it to be said before it’s too late.

And Frank deserves to be the person who Gerard loses his ‘I love you’ virginity to. 

“Good,” Frank says, also blushing madly, because the only person he’s ever said that too before is his mom. Saying it to Gerard is a really huge deal, and hearing it heard back is huger.

“That’s the first time we’ve said that.”

“Yeah,” Frank nods. “It won’t be the last.”

Biting his lip, Gerard says, “good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, it means a lot that you've reached the end. I look forward to continuing this story soon, even though this fic has come to an end. It's been amazing writing it, and even more amazing getting to share it.


End file.
